


Undress to Impress

by ashisverymuchonfire



Category: Bandom, Pierce the Veil, Sleeping With Sirens
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Anxiety, Drug Addiction, Eventual Romance, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lapdance, M/M, Overthinking, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Harassment, Smut, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Suicide Attempt, Violence, kellic - Freeform, there's a lot of stuff in this fic, you'll just have to read it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-07 07:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 119,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4255383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashisverymuchonfire/pseuds/ashisverymuchonfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vic Fuentes has a strict policy against having anything to do with people such as strippers, prostitutes, and porn stars. He also has a raging crush on the quiet, mysterious Kellin Quinn. So for Vic’s eighteenth birthday, his friends decide to throw him a party with a special guest: a male stripper. Named Kellin Quinn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> …I blame “Death Valley” by Fall Out Boy for the entirety of this fic. Yep, Kellin is a stripper.
> 
> So I got this AO3 account after I'd already started this fic, and I was gonna wait until it was completely finished to post it all at once on here since it's almost done anyway, but I decided I'd just start periodically posting chapters on here until I get caught up and/or finish.
> 
> As for warnings: There will be some darker topics, such as sexual harassment, drugs/alcohol, violence, etc. Also, there will be quite a bit of smut (more than any of my other fics so far, at least), but don’t read if that’s all you’re here for, because there will be an actual plotline. This thing is probably gonna be like 38 parts, if I estimated correctly.
> 
> Also: Though this prologue is in third person, the rest of the chapters will be first person in Vic’s POV, along with a few little “Interludes” in Kellin’s POV (I’ll talk more about them when the time comes).

On the ninth of February, Mike Fuentes waits outside of school for the rest of the kids to leave. He knows that the person he’s looking for will be the last one out, and it’s better that way.  
  
He told his brother, Vic, to drive home without him. Vic seemed suspicious, but he didn’t say anything. So now Mike is waiting, waiting for the seemingly quiet boy who will hopefully help him out.  
  
Mike sits down on a bench, and soon enough, he’s the only one left outside. A few seconds later, though, the front door opens, and Kellin Quinn walks through it.  
  
He’s about to pass the bench when Mike calls, “Hey!”  
  
Kellin stops and turns to look at him. “Yeah?”  
  
"Can you sit down for a minute?" Mike asks. "I’d like you to do me a favor."  
  
Kellin raises an eyebrow and sits down next to him. “I don’t do favors for people,” he says dismissively.  
  
Mike expected that. He pulls out his wallet and opens it up, revealing a bunch of dollar bills. “I’ve got five hundred bucks.”  
  
Now both of Kellin’s eyebrows are raised, this time with interest. “I’m listening.”  
  
Mike smirks a little. “It’s about my brother Vic. So, his eighteenth birthday is tomorrow, and we’re throwing him a party at our house.”  
  
"Are you  _inviting_  me?” Kellin asks.  
  
Mike shrugs. “Well, yeah. But as a special guest. See, there’s a stage in the basement. With a pole on it.”  
  
Alarm seems to flash through Kellin’s eyes before he quickly regains composure. “What do poles have to do with anything?”  
  
"Don’t play dumb," Mike replies. "I think you’re quite familiar with poles."  
  
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Kellin quickly responds.  
  
But it’s clear that Kellin  _does_  know what Mike is talking about. Maybe he just wants to keep that life separate from this one.  
  
"I know about your little… _persona_ ,” Mike says. “And I was wondering if you could give us—specifically Vic—a private show tomorrow night.”  
  
For a moment, Kellin seems unsure. Then he says, “Five hundred dollars?”  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Vic Fuentes?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
A slow smile spreads across his face. “I think this could be interesting.”  
  
Mike nods. “Oh, I think it will be  _very_  interesting. But you’ve gotta make it special somehow. He’s a little…well, I think he’ll be a bit surprised. Your goal is to make him like it.”  
  
"I can do that," Kellin says. "Only the best for your brother. He won’t be able to resist me."  
  
"We’ll see about that."


	2. Turn On the Charm for Me Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Like I said, Vic's POV now.)

I wake up to the sound of banging pots and pans.  
  
"Ah!" I yell, my eyes flying open. Above me, Mike is grinning. He’s stopped now, but my ears are still ringing.  
  
"Happy birthday," he sings.  
  
"Too soon," I complain, covering my face with my hands.  
  
"Nope. Time to get up, Victor. You have a very special day ahead of you." He bangs the pots and pans together one more time for emphasis.  
  
I groan. “What are you, twelve?”  
  
He smacks me.  
  
After a few moments, I pull myself out of bed, about to head downstairs when I see him standing in the doorway to Mom’s bedroom. I slow down.  
  
"Mom," Mike is saying. "Do you know what day today is?"  
  
I peer over his shoulder. Mom is lying in bed, looking like she’s hungover (because she probably is). She hasn’t even bothered to pull the covers up. “I’m pretty sure it’s Wednesday,” she says.  
  
"Friday, Mom," Mike replies dryly. "But I meant the actual date."  
  
"Mike," I hiss. "Leave her alone. Let’s just go."  
  
Mike shakes his head, his demeanor changed from excited to sullen. “I just want to see something.”  
  
Mom rubs her eyes. She seems to be thinking. “It’s February, right? February…fourth, maybe?”  
  
"It’s the tenth," Mike says. "Do you know what’s special about that?"  
  
"Mike," I repeat. "Stop. You don’t have to do this for me."  
  
Mike doesn’t listen. “Vic’s turning eighteen today,” he snaps. “I thought you’d be sober enough to remember your own son’s fucking birthday.” With that, he storms away, down the stairs.  
  
"Mike," I call after him, glancing at Mom. She doesn’t seem at all fazed.  
  
"Happy birthday, Vic," she says, still sounding completely out of it.  
  
"Thanks," I say softly, before turning and chasing Mike down.  
  
As we’re getting ready for school, I tell him, “That was kind of rude. You don’t have to give her a hard time.”  
  
"Well, she needs to get it together."  
  
"Come on. You can’t expect her to remember something like my birthday when she’s so busy thinking about…"  
  
I trail off then, and Mike gives me a hard stare. “Well, maybe the love of _my_  life died, too, but I still remembered.”  
  
I don’t respond to that. I just say, “Are you ready to go?”  
  
"Yeah," he says, seeming to calm down. "Let’s wait outside."  
  
So we sit down on the front porch, and a few minutes later, our friends Jaime and Tony pull up in Tony’s beat-up red car. Jaime is in the passenger seat, as usual, and Mike and I hop into the back.  
  
"Are you ever gonna let one of us ride shotgun, Jaime?" Mike teases, forgetting the tension of a few minutes ago.  
  
Jaime snorts. “Are you kidding me? This is, like,  _my_  seat. If I ever sit in a different seat, the whole world will explode. I’m doing it for the sake of humanity, Mike.”  
  
"Whatever you say."  
  
Tony clears his throat loudly as he pulls out of the driveway. “So, it’s somebody’s birthday today, isn’t it?” he says, giving me a knowing smile in the rearview mirror.  
  
"Oh, right," Jaime says. "Happy birthday, Beyoncé!"  
  
Mike rolls his eyes. “That’s in September, stupid.” He puts an arm around me and, directly in my ear, screams, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BROTHER! YOU ARE NOW OFFICIALLY LEGAL!”  
  
I push him away lightly. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” I say, smiling and looking away.  
  
"Don’t be modest," Jaime says. "This is a big day. You’re an adult now."  
  
I laugh. “Still can’t drink legally.”  
  
"Hey, wait," Tony says. "Mike. How do you know when Beyoncé’s birthday is?"  
  
"She’s the queen of the universe. How do you  _not_  know when her birthday is?”  
  
At school, quite a few people wish me a happy birthday. I’m not exactly part of the popular crowd—I’m more of a drifter, meaning that I’m sort of friends with almost everyone, though Mike, Tony, and Jaime are closest to me.  
  
"Think Kellin’s gonna wish you a happy birthday today, Vic?" Mike says to me as we’re standing in the hallway.  
  
I can feel my face start to heat up at the mention of his name. “No,” I reply, staring down at the ground and letting my hair fall into my face. “He never talks to anyone, let alone me. Plus, he might not even know my birthday’s today.  _Plus_ , even if he does know, he probably doesn’t care.”  
  
"Aw, don’t be like that," Mike says. "Who knows? Something really special could happen." He winks.  
  
I snort. “You say that all the time.”  
  
"Touché."  
  
Jaime whistles at me. “ _Here she comes_ ,” he sings, “ _Miss America_ …” He gestures down the hall.  
  
Sure enough, there he is in all his glory: Kellin Quinn. He’s wearing mostly black, as usual, and he seems to hide in the background, also as usual. His hair is swept to one side, and he looks down at the ground, just trying to blend in and not be noticed. It works for everyone else—most people probably don’t even know his name—but not for me. I’ve noticed him.  
  
As I’m watching, his eyes seem to drift towards me, and then I see something I don’t think I’ve ever seen before: a faint smile on his lips.  
  
He’s gone in an instant, walking past me down the hall, blending in with the masses of students. But the flash of that smile replays itself over and over again in my mind, so that even when he’s long gone, it still sort of feels like he’s here.  
  
"Hey. Vic. Dude. Birthday Boy. Anyone home?"  
  
I blink a few times as Mike’s voice—along with the fingers he’s snapping in front of my face—bring me back to reality. “Huh?”  
  
Jaime shakes his head, turning and walking away to his first period class. “You’re hilarious.”  
  
"Fuck you," I say. I turn to Mike, who’s laughing at me. "Fuck you, too."  
  
He holds his hands up. “Hey, it’s not my fault if the whole world stops if he so much as looks at you.”  
  
"I’ll kill you."  
  
He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. We’re throwing you a surprise party tonight.”  
  
I snort. “Now it’s not a surprise anymore, Smart One.”  
  
"Oh, that’s not what I meant. I meant that it’ll be a party…with a surprise."  
  
I raise an eyebrow. “Ooh. I’m excited.”  
  
"You should be."  
  
As I’m making my way to my first period class, someone puts their arm around me, and I turn to see my  _wonderful_  ex, Beau Bokan.  
  
"Oh, hello there," I say. "Fancy seeing you around."  
  
He smirks. “Long time no see.”  
  
"And you’re here because…?" I don’t have the time or tolerance for his bullshit today.  
  
"Just wanted to wish you a happy birthday."  
  
I lightly push him away. “Okay, well, you’ve done it. Thanks. Bye.”  
  
"So harsh," he comments, but walks away anyways.  
  
I let out a deep breath and turn around—right into Kellin himself.  
  
"Oh—sorry," he murmurs, a light blush tainting his cheeks.  
  
"Oh, I—no, it’s okay," I stutter.  
  
He looks up at me, narrowing his eyes. “Hey, isn’t it your birthday today?”  
  
I try not to smile (and fail). “Um, yeah, actually.”  
  
He smiles back. “Well, happy birthday.”  
  
It’s such a simple phrase, but it makes my whole day that much better. He just keeps looking at me, that faint smile still dancing across his lips, and because it’s so uncommon, I can’t help but ask: “Why are you smiling at me?”  
  
"What? I’m not smiling. What are you talking about?" But the smile just gets wider. "I’ll see you around, Vic."  
  
"I…um…okay." And then he walks away, leaving me with the image of that smile, and words to replay, too.  
  
 _I’ll see you around, Vic._  
  
—  
  
The rest of the day goes by in a blur, with Mike constantly teasing and joking about the party and whatever “surprise” he’s got in store for me. Jaime and Tony keep giving me weird looks, too, so I’m guessing they’re in on it. All I know is, it’s probably got something to do with the basement.  
  
For the past few days, there’s been a bit of construction in the basement, and Mike refuses to let me go down there because of it. He says that it’s not a huge renovation, but apparently it’s important enough that I’m not allowed to know what it is. He also says that Mom is dimly aware of it, but not enough that she’s dwelled too long on it. That’s the way she’s been about everything for the past year, too focused on drinking herself to death to notice anything else.  
  
And whatever the “surprise” is, Mike won’t stop fucking  _laughing_  about it. He especially wouldn’t stop after he saw my little event with Kellin this morning. He won’t say why, no matter how much I try to guess. He says I’ll just have to wait and see.  
  
Now we’ve just gotten back from school, and all four of us are helping to set up for the party. I’m only allowed to help with certain things, though, things that don’t include the basement. Mike says that there’s going to be a specific time when we’re allowed to go down there because someone has to “get ready”, whatever that means. Mike’s been saying a lot of things today.  
  
At around five thirty, our friend Zack arrives to be the basement’s “guard” to ensure that nobody sneaks down there who isn’t supposed to be down there. The party starts at around six. Mom isn’t home, and she probably won’t be until it’s over—most nights she goes straight from work to the bar, which has become more of a home for her than her own house.  
  
A few minutes before six o’clock rolls around, people start showing up. There’s music playing and food and drinks—both alcoholic and non-alcoholic—in the kitchen. The furniture has been pushed back to the wall to make a dance floor, and there’s even flashing lights. It looks pretty good, actually, but with my luck, the whole house will be trashed by the end of the night. None of the people coming are usually that immature, though, so I’m not too worried about it. We all just want a little fun.  
  
Mike insists on welcoming everyone, even though technically it’s  _my_  party. He says he has to keep a lookout for a certain someone.  
  
"You didn’t invite a hooker or something, did you?" I ask as I’m standing with him in the kitchen.  
  
Mike laughs loudly. “Hooker? No.”  
  
"Does it have something to do with…um…?"  
  
He raises an eyebrow. “Who, Kellin? No, why?”  
  
"Well, you laughed your ass off after that whole thing with him earlier, and you’re looking for a specific person…"  
  
He snorts. “Dude. I  _always_  laugh my ass off whenever something happens between you two.”  
  
I shrug. “Good point.”  
  
"And okay, fine," he continues, " _maybe_  I invited a special guest.” He pokes my chest. “ _You_  just need to chill out and enjoy the party. It’s your birthday. Have fun. Let me deal with the rest.”  
  
"I feel like you have some ulterior motive," I say slowly.  
  
"What makes you say that?"  
  
"You’re never this nice to me."  
  
"And again I bring up the birthday thing." He points out into the living room. "Now go."  
  
I laugh, teasingly rolling my eyes and making my way back out into the living room. From there, it’s just what it’s supposed to be—a party. I hang out and socialize with friends, just enjoying the way this thing is going. It’s not as trashy as most high school parties, and it’s a hell of a lot more fun. I have to say, I’m not normally a party person, but if this is the way it goes down, well, I could get used to it.  
  
Mike disappears at some point, which means he’s probably helping out with the “special guest” down in the basement. Sure enough, only a few minutes after I noticed that he’d left, the music gets turned down, and then he blows an air horn, shutting everyone up and grabbing our full attention.  
  
"OKAY!" Mike yells. He’s standing on top of the breakfast bar out in the kitchen. "Down in the basement, we have a special guest who’s going to do a little thing for Vic. From this point onward, anyone is allowed to come down to hang out, drink, whatever." He nods at me. "Vic, get your ass down there. Here’s your surprise." He smirks a little, raising his eyebrows knowingly, and then jumps down off of the bar.  
  
Zack opens the door to the basement, and the majority of people, myself included, head down. The first thing I notice is that, like upstairs, most of the furniture has been cleared away, replaced by tables and chairs that almost make it look like some sort of makeshift club. The second thing I notice is the bright, flashing lights—again, similar to upstairs—that also add to the club-like effect. The third and most important thing I notice is the stage.  
  
The stage itself isn’t what catches me off-guard. That’s been down here for as long as I can remember; Mike and I used it to pretend like we were performers when we were younger. The thing that catches me off-guard is the pole right in the middle of it.  
  
"Mike!" I call.  
  
Mike comes over immediately. “Yes?”  
  
“ _Why_  did you turn our basement into a strip club?”  
  
He just laughs.  
  
"And where did that pole come from?" I continue.  
  
“ _I know a guy_ ,” he whispers, smirking even more. He points at the stage. “Come on. This is for you.”  
  
"No," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. "Did you seriously invite a fucking  _stripper_?”  
  
"Hey, at least it’s not a hooker."  
  
I just look at him.  
  
He sighs. “Fine. Yes, I did. Now go. Seriously, Vic, this is more special than you think it is. Trust me.”  
  
I don’t know what it is that makes me comply and sit down in a chair close to the stage. Maybe it’s just the fact that it’s Mike. Yeah, probably that.  
  
After a few seconds, I see someone out of the corner of my eye making their way up to the stage. Then they step out, and I nearly fall over, because standing right in front of me is Kellin fucking Quinn.  
  
He’s got black thigh-high stockings attached to some sort of matching lacy thing that rests on his hips, along with what looks like some tight black briefs. His (also black) shirt is long and modest, but I don’t think that’ll last long. It looks like some kind of mix between boys’ clothes and girls’, but it’s a look that he pulls off surprisingly well—fuck, I should  _not_  be thinking that.  
  
"Happy birthday, Vic Fuentes," he announces, blowing me a kiss. The music starts, and with that, Kellin kicks his black high heels right off of his feet and starts moving.  
  
He turns around and rotates his hips, lifting his hands up over his head. On the one hand, I don’t want to watch some guy strip for me, but on the other hand, I can’t stop, because it’s  _Kellin_. Kellin Quinn, quiet and shy and so seemingly innocent, making his way to the pole like a professional.  
  
A bunch of people are watching him now, cheering and catcalling as he lifts his whole body up and swings one leg around, still moving to the beat of the song. He wraps his other leg around and grinds himself against the pole, earning an even louder round of applause. Then he jumps off unexpectedly, heading near the edge of the stage and shimmying. He locks eyes with me and winks.  
  
This is not the Kellin I thought I knew, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.  
  
"Take it off!" someone in the background yells, and Kellin just smirks, reaching down and starting to pull off his shirt torturously slowly.  
  
People are tossing their money at him, and after what seems like an eternity, he throws his shirt to the side, exposing his chest and giving us all a better view of his hips. I can’t help but start to feel a little bit turned on by the way he’s moving, the way his stockings hug his thighs, the way he returns to the pole with confidence radiating from him. These are not things that should turn me on.  
  
From there, he starts to move a bit faster, twisting and spinning and grinding himself on the pole. I’m not even touching him, but I’m getting sort of—okay,  _very_ —excited anyways. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows exactly what it’s doing to me.  
  
My gaze is roaming everywhere—one moment it’s fixated on his face, the next it’s roving down his chest and his back, and before I know it I’m getting fucking horny over the way his outfit accentuates his ass. Fucking hell; who knew someone’s ass could look so  _good_?  
  
Kellin climbs back off of the pole and quickly unhooks the stockings like it’s no more difficult than breathing, still dancing to the music as he does it. After a few moments, he pushes the whole thing down swiftly, tossing it all to the side in a way that makes it look a lot easier than it probably is. This leaves him in absolutely nothing but those tight black briefs.  
  
Unconsciously, I mutter, “Fuck.”  
  
I can barely hear myself over the loud music, but somehow, Kellin must catch my one-word reaction, judging by the way he flashes me that stunning smile and dances on the very edge of the stage. My morals are still there in the back of my mind, but right now all I can focus on is how fucking hot he looks and how my supposedly innocent Kellin knows exactly how to turn me on.  
  
The crowd that has gathered is cheering loudly as the song ends—did that really only last for one song?—and Kellin smiles widely, basking in the praise and giving a formal bow as people throw money at him.  
  
"You don’t have to give him money." Mike’s voice makes me jump as he sits down beside me. "I already paid him five hundred dollars."  
  
I don’t even think about what he says. I’m just trying to ignore the problem in my pants, trying to pretend that Kellin’s performance didn’t do anything to me.  
  
"Hey, Birthday Boy!"  
  
The voice of the devil himself catches my attention, and I turn to see him hopping off the stage and standing only a few feet in front of me. “Wanna go private?” he asks. “Just you and me. It’s your birthday, so do what you want.”  
  
I can’t help but nod, standing up and letting him lead me back to our house’s basement spare bedroom—Mike must’ve shown him where it was earlier. As soon as the door is closed behind us, I let out a sigh of arousal, sitting down on a desk chair and never letting my gaze stray from him.  
  
"I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that you enjoyed that," he says knowingly, turning to me and grinning.  
  
I just nod again, giving up any efforts to act like I’m not horny. “More than…than I should’ve.”  
  
He raises an eyebrow. “More than you should’ve?” He makes his way over to me and leans in close. “That reminds me…Mike mentioned you being a bit harder to reel in. Said you were a bit… _uptight_  about these kinds of things.”  
  
I nod slowly. “I—I normally am,” I say breathlessly, hating the way I’ve turned completely helpless because of him. “But you…I was already, u-um…attracted to you.”  
  
Kellin looks at me with interest. “Am I special, then?”  
  
"Maybe." I bite my lip. "I’m probably gonna hate myself for this later."  
  
He shrugs. “Well, order up. I’ve been paid five hundred dollars, and that can get you a whole lot. What do you want from me? Lap dance, maybe?”  
  
"Yes," I reply immediately. "Now."  
  
Without another word, Kellin swings his leg up and climbs on top of me, leaning in closer and moving his body up and down to the music still playing out in the main area, causing me to let out a low moan. I grab his hips, but it’s less of an attempt to control him and more of just an opportunity to feel those fucking hips, to feel their unusual but gorgeous slight curves. Then I realize that he might have a no-touching rule or something like that, but when he doesn’t object, I take it as approval and hold onto him a bit tighter.  
  
He doesn’t let this deter him, sliding so close that I can almost feel the sweat dripping from his hair and then pulling almost completely away from me, as if teasing me. When the beat of the music slows, he slows with it and speeds up when the song gets faster. I can’t help it—I move my hands down and grab his ass (it feels just as good as it looks), and he just smiles down at me, taking ahold of my shoulders as he grinds on me.  
  
“ _Ungh_ ,” I sigh involuntarily, tilting my head back and closing my eyes. “Oh my— _fuck_.”  
  
The song comes to an end right around then, stopping way too quickly for my liking. Kellin climbs off of me, smirking. “Did you enjoy that?”  
  
"Uh huh," I breathe. "F-finish what you started. Please."  
  
Kellin’s smile just widens as he gets down on his knees in front of me. “Of course.” He pulls my pants down, followed by my boxers, and before I can think about the fact that he’s seeing me half-naked, he takes me into his mouth. I gasp a little.  
  
He’s slow at first, his tongue moving up and down and covering every inch, occasionally brushing against my tip and sending little electric shocks through me every time. I thread my fingers through his hair, pushing myself farther into his mouth and moaning when he complies, bobbing his head up and down like he was born to do this.  
  
"Oh m-my God," I groan, tightening my grip and bucking my hips. With all the buildup, I’m not going to last long at all.  
  
Kellin seems to realize this, sucking quickly, giving me no time to relax. I bob his head even more, shifting around in my seat and feeling a wave of satisfaction when my shaft hits the back of his throat. Then he hums, slow and long, and the vibrations, along with his tongue massaging my tip, send me over the edge. I grip at his hair even tighter yet, gasping and moaning as I come into his mouth, as he swallows every bit of it like it’s nothing.  
  
I’m breathing heavily when I finally slow down, and Kellin stands up, wiping his mouth and sending me a smile—but this time, it’s not the smirk but the genuine one, the one that leaves me even more breathless than I already am.  
  
"That," I say as I do my pants back up, "was…really good." It sounds kind of lame when I put it that way, but I don’t know how to adequately describe it.  
  
He smiles at me, staring at me with interest for a few moments.  
  
I narrow my eyes. “What?”  
  
He blinks a couple of times, shrugging. “I think…I think you’re one of my favorites.” Before I can respond, he raises an eyebrow. “Should we go back out now?”  
  
I stand up, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”  
  
And it’s only as we’re walking out of the room that it hits me,  _really_  hits me.  
  
The supposedly awkward, dorky Kellin Quinn is the guy who just danced for me in thigh-high stockings. He’s the guy who just gave me a lap dance and then sucked me off, all with grace and confidence that I’d never expect from a guy who always hides in the background at school. That adorable, quiet guy that I have a crush on is the same person as the guy who takes his clothes off for a living. And now that it’s all over, I’m starting to actually think about all of that.  
  
I promised myself I’d never get involved with someone like this, and now here I am, hopelessly in love with Kellin Quinn…the stripper.  
  
Fuck.


	3. I'm All Mixed Up

Kellin doesn’t stay for conversation, instead disappearing and returning a few minutes later wearing the clothes I’m used to seeing him in: a black band t-shirt, black jeans, and Toms. But even after that, he doesn’t talk to me at all, but I guess I can’t really expect a stripper to make small talk with the person they just performed for. He does socialize with other people, though, even drinking a little bit. He and I both end up hanging out upstairs, me with Jaime, Tony, and Mike, him with some other people.  
  
I’m still reeling from what just happened, trying to make sense of my own thought process. I’ve come to the conclusion that as soon as Kellin walked onstage, I started thinking not with my head but with my dick. For whatever reason, seeing him like that turned me on, and in that moment it seemed all my morals and values had been forgotten. All I knew was that I wanted him, and I didn’t care about anything else. Why did I do it? Why did I come so undone at the sight of him dancing for me?  
  
Of course, that’s a stupid question, and I already know the answer to it. It’s because it was  _Kellin_.  
  
I’ve tried to tell myself that my crush on him isn’t too intense, that I can turn those feelings off whenever I want and it won’t be that hard, but now I know how wrong I was. I just let him  _strip_  for me. I never would’ve let anyone else do that, but maybe the opportunity to see Kellin mostly naked was just too good to resist. But since when do I care about seeing him naked? I’ve never thought of him that way before.  
  
If anybody heard my thoughts right now, they’d probably tell me to get over it and stop being such a prude. But they don’t understand. That isn’t responsible, being involved with someone like him. It isn’t good. It isn’t _right_. Am I the only person who knows the difference between right and wrong anymore?  
  
I snap out of my daze when Tony taps me on the shoulder—we’re both sitting on the couch. “You gonna go over there and defend your territory?” he asks, pointing to one corner of the room a few feet away from us. Leaning against the wall is Kellin himself, that smirk back on his face, but it’s not directed at me. It’s directed at the guy he’s talking to, who seems a little  _too_  close to him.  
  
"It’s not like he’s my boyfriend or anything," I reply, trying to ignore my sudden jealousy. "He can talk to whoever he wants."  
  
Tony raises an eyebrow at me. “Vic, I’m not exactly an expert on these types of things, but it kind of looks like he’s flirting with that dude.”  
  
I scowl as I watch them. Tony’s right—Kellin looks sly, shifting his body closer to the other guy’s and staring at him with this look in his eyes, even running his fingers lightly across the guy’s forearm at one point. They are definitely too close together for this to just be casual conversation. Kellin seems like he’s enjoying it, too.  
  
"So what if he’s flirting?" I say finally, clenching my jaw. "Like I said, he’s not my boyfriend. He can flirt with whoever he wants. I don’t care."  
  
Tony snorts. “Okay, whatever you say.” We both know that I care more than I’d like to admit.  
  
The jealousy just builds up as I watch them. I can’t help but picture myself walking over there and pinning Kellin against the wall, kissing him roughly to let everyone know that he’s mine. But he’s  _not_  mine, and I shouldn’t want him to  _be_  mine. Easier said than done.  
  
After what feels like hours but in reality is probably only a couple minutes, Kellin takes the guy by the hand, and even from here, I can see the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. The guy complies, leading Kellin slightly unsteadily over to the stairs.  
  
Tony nudges me, narrowing his eyes. “Are you really gonna let your crush and some drunk dude I don’t even remember inviting have sex in one of your beds?”  
  
But Zack has beaten me to it, standing in front of the stairs with his arms crossed. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but eventually Kellin and the other guy just roll their eyes and walk away, disappearing for a few moments before I find them again, in another corner of the living room. The guy moves forward, his lips dangerously close to Kellin’s, and that’s when a thought seems to flash through Kellin’s mind, because he pushes the guy away and shakes his head.  
  
The guy stares at Kellin for a few moments, then pushes him against the wall suddenly, grabbing both his hands and pinning them there. I stand up quickly, my protective instinct kicking in. Right now it doesn’t matter what Kellin is, because no one pushes him around like that.  
  
"Hey!" I yell as I storm over.  
  
The guy turns around, still holding onto Kellin with one hand. “Yeah?”  
  
"Don’t touch him like that," I demand, glaring at him.  
  
"Oh, yeah?" He raises an eyebrow. "And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?"  
  
"I’m Vic Fuentes," I say. "The host. And you’d best be leaving before I kick your ass all the way to Australia."  
  
Those words instantly drain some of the confidence out of him. After one more glance at Kellin, he lets him go and shoulders past me, headed for the front door. When I’m sure he’s gone, I turn back to Kellin, who is staring at me with what looks like relief. “Thanks,” he says finally. “Fuck. Sorry about that.”  
  
I shake my head, trying to keep my emotions in check while I’m around him. “It’s fine. It’s not your fault he was being a dick.”  
  
"Actually, it was, ‘cause I was the one who started flirting with him and then left him hanging." He shrugs. "But…yeah. Thanks anyways."  
  
I just nod, allowing myself a small smile. “No problem.”  
  
I can’t believe how much he hypnotizes me. Of course that’s what he did earlier: He hypnotized me. Not literally; he just captivated me, made me ignore all my disapproving thoughts and just watch. And I don’t know what to make of that, because now I realize that this “innocent” guy is anything but innocent. He seemed ready to have sex with that guy when they were heading for the stairs, and it was only afterward that he decided he’d changed his mind (and why did he change his mind anyways?).  
  
 _And how many other people has he had sex with?_  I wonder as I sit back down on the couch. It reminds me of what he said after our little encounter—he said I was one of his “favorites”. He’s stripped for so many people, given lap dances to so many people, sucked off so many people, that he actually has  _favorites_. The quiet dork is actually a slut.  
  
Tony turns to me. “Let me guess. Thinking about Kellin?”  
  
I bite my lip. “Yeah.”  
  
"Thinking about how different he is from the Kellin you thought you knew?"  
  
"Yeah," I repeat.  
  
"Well…are you still in love with him?"  
  
I shrug. “I don’t even know anymore, Tony. My head’s a fucking mess.”  
  
He holds up a bottle of vodka. “Wanna forget about it for a little while? I mean, it  _is_  your birthday party. You should be having fun.”  
  
I nod, smiling a little. “Yeah. That sounds like a good idea.”  
  
The rest of my night is spent letting go of most of my stress, which is something I don’t get to do often. Most of the time, I’m always worrying about one thing or another, and it’s gotten even worse since my mom started going downhill. But tonight, it’s my birthday, and all my friends are here, and I can just have a little fun.  
  
I can’t help but check in on Kellin every once in a while, though, just to see what he’s up to. He’s gone back to socializing, but not flirting. Some people start teasing him, asking for lap dances and blowjobs and even actual sex, but Kellin just ignores it all, pushing away anyone who tries to make a move on him. I can’t help but wonder if that’s something he’s used to, but now that I’ve got a bit more alcohol in my system, I don’t think about it too much.  
  
Finally, people start leaving, but Kellin stays a bit longer. In fact, he’s one of the last people here, when it’s just me, my main group of friends, and a couple of others, and we’re all just hanging out and chatting about random shit. At one point, I hear him out in another room where there isn’t anyone else, talking to someone on the phone. I only catch bits and pieces of what he’s saying, which, when put together, sounds something like this: “Dad, I’m at a party….No, I’m gonna leave soon…but I…okay, maybe….So what if I am?” This is then followed by what sounds like an exasperated sigh. “Mom doesn’t care….I’m just trying to…I mean…okay, whatever. I’m leaving now. Bye.”  
  
He walks back out into the living room a few seconds later, giving me a little wave and that adorable, awkward smile. “Uh…bye,” he says quietly, reverting back to the Kellin I’ve always known.  
  
I smile back at him, excusing myself from the group and motioning for Kellin to come with me to a separate room. Kellin just nods and follows me, looking a bit confused. “Um,” he says when we’re alone. “What’s up?”  
  
"Uh…nothing," I say, suddenly unsure as to why, exactly, I’ve brought him over here. "I just wanted to, um…thank you. Y’know, for…coming," I finish lamely, my face heating up.  
  
Kellin just laughs, his shyness dropping away.  
  
I narrow my eyes at him. “What?”  
  
He makes a face at me. “Well, judging by what went on downstairs, I don’t think I’m the one who was  _coming_ , Vic.”  
  
It takes me a moment to get the joke, and even though I never would’ve expected it to be a joke that he’d make, I find myself laughing at it.  
  
"Okay," I say, "that was good. But seriously. Thanks for being here. It, um…it was a pretty good birthday present." God, that sounds so horrible. He’s a  _stripper_ , for fuck’s sake. Mike bought him for me. It’s like he’s an object or something.  
  
But Kellin just seems to accept it without question—maybe those are the types of compliments he’s used to getting. “It was my pleasure.” He raises an eyebrow. “Can I safely assume that you enjoyed it?”  
  
"Uh…yes," I say slowly. "You would be correct in that assumption."  
  
Kellin takes a step closer to me, his bright eyes locking with mine. He seems to be contemplating something. In that moment, I just want to close the distance and kiss him, but he steps back before I can get the chance. “That’s fantastic,” he says finally, waving at me again. “Well, I should be going. Gotta get home. See you around.”  
  
There’s that phrase again:  _See you around._  I wave back at him, watching as he turns around and walks out of the room. It’s only after he’s gone that I find my voice and manage to reply, “See you around.”  
  
—  
  
"So, did you dream about your sexy crossdressing stripper boyfriend?" Mike asks me in the morning after I finally roll out of bed at around noon. We’re down in the kitchen, where Mike is getting some lunch while I haven’t even had breakfast.  
  
"No, I did not," I say, rubbing my eyes. "And he’s not my boyfriend anyways."  
  
He raises an eyebrow at me as I sit down across from him at the dining room table. “Are you thinking about it?” he asks.  
  
"About what?"  
  
"About…y’know…dating him." He bites his lip. "Because, I mean…he  _is_  a stripper.”  
  
I shrug, pushing some wild strands of hair out of my face. “I know, Mike. I don’t know what to do about it. I mean, he’s probably had sex with so many different people…what if I’m just another guy to him? Just another prize to be won?”  
  
"That’s what I’m worried about," Mike replies. "But, I mean, there’s gotta be someone better. Someone a bit more trustworthy. Someone a bit…cleaner."  
  
I raise an eyebrow. “I thought you were all for it. Y’know, he and I, being together. You seemed really excited about it yesterday.”  
  
"I was excited about the  _prank_ ,” he says. “That’s all it was, really. A prank. A joke. I mean, come on. Who wouldn’t want to see the look on their responsible older brother’s face when he finds out that his crush is a stripper?” He smiles a little. “I told him to make you like it, but I thought it’d be impossible. I thought you’d be outta there in three seconds flat.” After a moment’s pause, he adds, “So did he do it?”  
  
I narrow my eyes. “Do what?”  
  
"Make you like it."  
  
I bite my lip, not wanting to admit it. “Well, I was a lot more into it than I should’ve been,” I say finally. “I’ll give him that.”  
  
For a moment, Mike just stares at me. “What?” I say.  
  
He shakes his head. “I just…I didn’t think he’d actually be able to do it. It was like asking someone to turn a hardcore atheist into a Christian. But I guess you’ve been Baptized.”  
  
I snort. “Nice analogy, but I’m not completely converted yet.”  
  
“ _Yet_ ,” he repeats. “Just…be careful. You get too involved with those types of people, and shit starts happening.”  
  
I try not to laugh at the absurdity of the younger brother warning the older one about the dangers of the world. “I know,” I say. “Believe me. I know.”  
  
Something unspoken passes between us in the silence that follows my words—a flashback to something I’d rather not relive. I stand up from the table before the memory can stay too much longer, giving Mike a short wave and walking out of the room.  
  
—  
  
In between all the birthday celebration, most of my thoughts over the weekend are focused on Kellin, bouncing back and forth in a conflicted pattern. I guess I have this idea that if I think about it hard enough, I’ll just have this lightbulb moment, and it’ll suddenly become clear to me what I should do. That’s not what happens, obviously, but does that stop me from still thinking about it? Of course not. Overthinking is my best talent.  
  
This doesn’t lead me to a solution. It only leads me to frustration, pacing back and forth in my room, and talking to myself out loud as I’m trying to work everything out. It really shouldn’t be this hard, but my mind is caught between “He’s a  _stripper_!” and “I’m in love with him.”  
  
So, when Monday rolls around, I’m not quite sure how to feel about seeing Kellin again. Is everything just going to return to the way it was? Am I going to get to talk to him again, and if so, what do I even say?  
  
I push these thoughts out of my mind on the way to school, just talking and joking with my friends. That works out pretty well until I actually get to school, when I’m standing in front of my locker. That’s when I hear a voice call, “Hey, slut, mind giving me a blow before class?”  
  
I spin around instantly and am greeted by a couple of guys, obnoxiously laughing at their newest target: Kellin, who stands against the wall a few feet away, his head down as he tries to hide in his black hoodie. I don’t remember seeing either of those guys at the party, so word must’ve spread.  
  
I don’t think as I push my way through the groups of people so I can get over to where they are. I stand pointedly in front of Kellin, meeting both of the guys with a death glare—or, at least, what I hope is a death glare.  
  
"What are you?" one of the guys asks. "His boyfriend?"  
  
The other guy smacks him. “Sluts like him don’t  _have_  boyfriends, dipshit. They just fuck everybody.”  
  
"Leave. Him. Alone," I snap. Right now, I don’t care if he’s a slut. I don’t like seeing him treated this way.  
  
The guys just roll their eyes. “Come on,” the second one says to the first, sounding bored. “They’re not worth it.” With that, the two walk off, still laughing about something.  
  
I turn around to face Kellin, who’s just watching me silently, eyes wide and childish-looking. “Are you okay?” I say softly.  
  
Kellin just blinks a few times, shrugging, before ducking his head and rushing away without another word.


	4. Just When I Think That We’re Through, You Make Me Come Right Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *casually puts Dan and Phil in a band fic*
> 
> *casually also gives Vic a bit of an ass fetish*
> 
> oops

Kellin doesn’t talk to me at all, no matter how much I try to get his attention. I’m not sure if he’s mad at me or if there’s something more that I don’t know about, but I can’t stop thinking about it, even if it’s only in the back of my mind. It feels like he’s fucking with me, but I don’t know if he’s doing it on purpose or not. A week ago, I never would’ve even considered it, but ever since the party, I’ve been thinking that anything is possible when it comes to him. The Kellin I met Friday night was so different from the one I’m used to seeing; I can’t rule anything out.  
  
Maybe he’s not doing anything all that different from what he usually does. I mean, we hardly ever talk during school—the longest conversation we’ve had here is the one we had on Friday morning before class. Until then, we’d never talked outside of school, either. Is he just used to being quiet here or something?  
  
I hate that I’m spending so much time thinking about him, analyzing everything he does or says, but he’s just become a hell of a lot more confusing, and whenever something confuses me, I have a tendency to obsess over it until I can understand it. I can’t stand not knowing something—when I was little, people always told me that I was a bit  _too_ curious. I guess that hasn’t changed much.  
  
Now Mike and I are hanging out at the back of the classroom. It’s the very end of the last period of the day, and at this point everyone is just talking and impatiently waiting for the dismissal to free us from our captivity. It’s at this point that I get around to asking Mike: “So, how the hell did you install a  _pole_  in our basement without me or Mom noticing?”  
  
Mike laughs a little. “It wasn’t as hard as you’d imagine. I thought it’d take longer than it did. The pre-built stage thing probably helped. I just called some people up, explained what was going on, paid them, and then the next thing I knew, boom! A wild stripper pole appeared!”  
  
I shake my head at him in mild amusement. “You spent so much money, dude. You paid Kellin five hundred dollars. Why’d you do that, anyways?”  
  
He shrugs. “I was feeling generous, I guess. I don’t know. Seemed like a pretty good amount.”  
  
I nod. “How’d you even find out that he’s a stripper?”  
  
"I saw him after school one day in a shadier part of the city while I was driving. I got curious, so I decided to follow him. He went into a club, and, well…I think you can figure out the rest."  
  
I nod again, letting it sink in that Kellin goes to clubs, that he performs for all the people there, that the party was far from a one-time thing. It’s so strange to imagine him as he was that night, in high heels and stockings and eventually just briefs, when today he’s wearing long pants and a baggy sweatshirt that he buries himself in.  
  
Before I can respond or think any more, the dismissal bell rings, and we all jump up, rushing out of the classroom and—for Mike and I, at least—straight to our lockers. We’re headed in separate directions, so I end up walking out alone, and that’s when a familiar voice calls out, “Hey, Vic!”  
  
I sigh and turn around, making my way over to the side of the school, where it’s less crowded. “Hey there, Beau.”  
  
Beau smiles at me, putting the already-lit joint up to his lips and not seeming to care that we’re still on school property. “Want a hit?”  
  
I shake my head. “Beau, you know I’m not into that shit.”  
  
He rolls his eyes, taking a step closer to me. “Not anymore.”  
  
I roll my eyes, too, trying to brush that comment off. “Whatever. Doesn’t change the fact that we’re done.”  
  
Beau raises an eyebrow. “Oh, it doesn’t, now?”  
  
"No," someone says. "It doesn’t."  
  
We both turn in the direction in the voice and find Kellin walking toward us. He’s got a death glare trained on Beau and doesn’t hesitate to stand in between us, the same way I did this morning.  
  
"And who might you be?" Beau says, smiling lazily and returning the joint to his lips.  
  
"I’m the new boyfriend in town," Kellin proclaims, taking my hand and linking his fingers with mine, "and I think you should leave now." I try to hide the way my heart skips a beat.  
  
Beau raises his eyebrows at me. “So you’ll date a dirty little slut, but you won’t smoke weed. Your values are fucked. But whatever.” With that, he shrugs and walks off.  
  
Kellin takes his hand away from mine (much too soon). “Sorry about that,” he says. “I had to get him off your back somehow, and that was my first instinct.”  
  
"Uh, that’s…that’s perfectly okay," I stutter, still a bit stuck on the way his fingers felt intertwined with mine. "Why did you…?"  
  
He shrugs, leaning against the wall and folding his arms across his chest. “I’ve seen him bugging you before, and I don’t like it. So.” Then he seems to perk up a little. “But anyways. Hi.” He waves at me.  
  
I match his position. “Um, hi,” I say slowly, watching him closely. He looks the same, but once again, his personality seems to have changed.  
  
He must pick up on my thoughts, because he laughs and says, “Am I not the type of guy you thought I would be?”  
  
I shrug, looking away. “I, um…I guess not.”  
  
I expect him to be offended, but he just laughs again. “I had a feeling that would happen eventually. Sorry. I’ve gotta keep myself under control at school.”  
  
I narrow my eyes. “Why?” But I think I already have an idea.  
  
"Kids are cruel," he says, confirming my suspicions. "They’ll make fun of you for anything. Maybe not as much at the better schools, but definitely at this one. And you and your friends are cool, Vic, so maybe you guys don’t have to worry about it as much, but I’ve got so many things that people could make fun of me for, so I can’t let any of it show."  
  
I just nod slowly, listening to his words. Looks like the “dirty little slut” is a bit smarter than most people would give him credit for.  
  
I’m ashamed to say that I’m actually a bit surprised myself.  
  
"And if it starts to spread around—y’know, what I do…God. It’ll be like those guys from this morning, teasing me about being a slut," he continues. "And I can’t even deny any of it, either." He sighs. "I just like having sex with people. I admit it. I think it’s fun. Can’t they just leave me alone?"  
  
And there’s the confirmation, that he has a lot of sex. I don’t know how to feel about it. What does this mean for us? Is he serious or casual about whatever is going on between us? As much as I don’t want to believe it, I can’t help but think that maybe I really am just a prize to be won.  
  
"But anyways," he says, changing the subject, "would you wanna go out sometime?"  
  
I feel my heart jump in my chest. Those are the words I’ve wanted him to say for a while, but now that he’s said them, I’m not sure whether I want to take him up on his offer.  
  
"Um," I say slowly. "Where?"  
  
He shrugs. “I don’t know. A club or something? Those are the only places I ever go. I’ve gotta work tonight, so maybe you could come and watch me.” He winks.  
  
I bite my lip. I promised myself I’d never go back to clubs or anything of the sort, especially not ones as dirty and obscene as these are bound to be. “Um…”  
  
Kellin shifts a bit closer to me. “It could be fun,” he says, his voice light yet somewhat suggestive.  
  
"Uh…what club is it?" I ask.  
  
"It’s called Lester’s," he explains. I’ve never heard of it. "Mostly a strip club, but it’s normally not too bad, I don’t think. Phil—the guy who runs it—he’s actually pretty cool, and not a total perv. Don’t know what made him decide to own a strip club, but whatever." He shrugs.  
  
If it were somewhere more innocent, I’d probably be there in a heartbeat, but this just serves as a giant reminder that Kellin being a stripper is a big thing. He works at these clubs most nights, and the thought of him associating with the people there just doesn’t seem to agree with me, no matter how nice he says they are.  
  
"I, um…no thanks," I say. "Maybe some other time…at some other place." I make a vague gesture with my hand, not quite sure what it’s supposed to mean.  
  
"Oh," Kellin says, seeming to physically deflate a little. "Okay. So I’ll still see you around, then?"  
  
"Um, yeah," I reply, deciding not to completely let go of him just yet. "I’ll see you around."  
  
With that, we both start to walk away, heading in different directions. Tony’s car is gone, which means that my friends must’ve left without me, but that’s not a big deal; we do that to each other a lot if one of us gets held up, and we can all just walk home anyways.  
  
The evening starts out like a relatively normal one, with me doing my homework and reading (I sound like a major nerd, don’t I?) before eating dinner with Mike. Then, afterward, thoughts start to dance around in my head, thoughts of going out somewhere. This wouldn’t be much of a big deal—I go out places all the time—if the place in question wasn’t Lester’s.  
  
I’m starting to think that Kellin has some sort of superpowers with the way he always seems to end up in my mind somehow. For a while, I just ignore it, but not even a game of MarioKart with Mike can completely push the thought away, and there’s only so much I can do to fend it off. I want to just fall asleep so I don’t have to contemplate the possibility, but of course that doesn’t happen. Finally, I give in and decide to go to the club, just to see what it’s like—oh, who am I kidding? I’m going to see Kellin.  
  
But why do I need to see him so badly? Am I jealous and want to make sure he’s not doing anything with anybody (which is stupid because he obviously is)? Am I protective and want to make sure that nothing bad is happening to him? Am I just, as usual, curious as hell?  
  
 _Or maybe you just want to see him get naked,_  suggests a little voice in my head. To be quite honest, that thought hadn’t even crossed my mind until now, but it does sound appealing.  
  
It doesn’t take long for me to find Lester’s, parking a couple of blocks away and walking over. It doesn’t look that bad, actually—I’ve seen a lot worse, though none of them were strip clubs like this one is.  
  
The inside isn’t all that trashy, either. It looks a lot like just your average club, except with more stages and poles on quite a few of them. There’s a bar on the left, which is where I head first, if only so I don’t end up standing right in the middle of the place looking like an idiot.  
  
I sit down on a barstool at the end, and a few seconds later, a short guy with dark hair and tattoos pops up on the other side. “What can I get you?” he asks.  
  
Before I can respond, another guy sits next to me, wearing a skimpy black dress, high heels, and what looks like makeup. “What do you think, Frankie?” he says to the bartender, pushing some black hair out of his face and motioning to his outfit, which, I’ll admit, looks pretty good on him.  
  
Frankie raises his eyebrows, looking the guy over. “Going a bit classy tonight, are you, Gee?”  
  
"Got a problem with that?" Gee—I’m pretty sure that these are nicknames—pushes his lips out in a pout.  
  
Frankie rolls his eyes, smiling. “Absolutely not. But I can’t keep this one hanging,” he says, nodding at me, “so hold on a sec.”  
  
I shake my head. “No, it’s fine, I don’t want anythi—”  
  
At that moment, a hand grabs my arm, and I turn around to see a sweaty, smiling Kellin. “I thought you weren’t coming,” he says, brushing his hair out of his face.  
  
"I changed my mind," I reply, smiling back at him. That smile of his—it could light up entire cities.  
  
"Hey, hey, hey," Frankie says, raising his eyebrows and turning to Kellin. "Who’s this, Kell?"  
  
"This is Vic," Kellin says, and I think he blushes a little—or maybe that’s just the lighting in here. "Vic, this is Frank." He nods at Frankie. "And this is Gerard." Then he nods at Gee, who winks at me.  
  
"Honey," he says, "I like the looks of you, so if you want something, hit me up."  
  
"Back off, Gerard," Kellin says, flipping him off. "If he gets anything tonight, it’ll be from me; I’ll make sure of that."  
  
Frank nods affirmatively, and I notice a glint of something in his eyes, which he covers up with a smile.  
  
"Protective little bitch," Gerard teases, clicking his tongue and hopping off the barstool. "But anyways, I’ve got a job to do, people to please…" Frank makes a face at that, and Gerard rolls his eyes. "Oh, come  _on_ , Frank. You know you’re my favorite.” Then he struts away, flipping his hair like he’s the King of Sass. Frank rolls his eyes and starts to get back to work, but I can see that he’s still smiling.  
  
Beside me, Kellin laughs, shaking his head. “Okay, so maybe my friends are a little weird.”  
  
I laugh, too, not quite sure how to respond to all of this. “He’s an interesting character. I’ll give him that.”  
  
Kellin nods, then perks up suddenly. “Oh, hey! I’m gonna see if I can find Dan!” he exclaims with the enthusiasm of a small child, rushing off before I can say anything. It’s kind of funny, actually, comparing a stripper to a small child, but that’s the only way I can describe it.  
  
Behind the counter, Frank shakes his head in amusement. “His comfort levels are astounding,” he comments. “He must really like you.”  
  
I narrow my eyes at him. “What do you mean?”  
  
He shrugs. “I don’t know. He’s just normally not this comfortable around most people, unless he’s performing. I thought that maybe you two had a thing or something.”  
  
"I’m not quite sure what we have, to be completely honest." Then, in an attempt at changing the subject, I smile a little and add, "What about you and Gerard? Do you two have a thing or something?" Now I can put a finger on the glint in Frank’s eyes when Gerard flirted with me—it was jealousy.  
  
Frank’s face heats up. “I, um…maybe. But I feel like it’d never work, y’know? He’s a stripper. He’s gonna be doing so many things with so many people, and I don’t know if I can handle that. But he’s such a great guy, and I think he has a thing for me, too—like, we were just friends at first, but then I sort of became one of his clients. You heard him say I’m his favorite. But that’s all we are, and I know strippers hardly ever date their clients, but…” He blushes even more. “Shit, I’m rambling. Sorry.”  
  
I smile—I’ve decided that I like him. “No, it’s fine. I see where you’re coming from, I really do. That’s kind of how it is with me and Kellin. But—”  
  
"Wait, what?" Frank interrupts. "Is that is his real name?"  
  
"What, Kellin?"  _What is he talking about?_  “Yeah, why?”  
  
He shakes his head. “He must not have told you, then. When he’s stripping, he’s just Kell, not Kellin. He doesn’t like us knowing his real name. Not sure why, but whatever. Maybe he wants to keep this separate from the rest of his life.”  
  
I nod slowly, feeling guilty for having spilled something important. In my defense, Kellin probably should’ve told me that he goes by Kell while he’s here, but considering that I wasn’t even planning on coming, I can understand why it was never brought up. “Shit,” I say. “I can’t believe I just did that.”  
  
"I’ll just pretend I don’t know," he says, laughing a little. "Or maybe I’ll get drunk and try to forget it."  
  
At that moment, Kellin pops back up. “Try to forget what?”  
  
Shit.  
  
"What color panties Gerard is wearing tonight so that he can surprise me later," Frank replies smoothly. Nice save.  
  
"Well, you have fun with that," Kellin says, motioning to a guy standing next to him with earrings and short brown hair. "Vic, this is Dan."  
  
"First things first," Dan says in a British accent that catches me off-guard. "Don’t touch my neck. I swear to God, if you ever break that sacred rule, you will be murdered on the spot, and I am  _not_  paying for your funeral.”  
  
Well then.  
  
After a second or two, he breaks into a smile. “Sorry. That’s what I say to most new people. Just so they know.”  
  
"Doesn’t make much sense for you to be a stripper, then," Frank points out.  
  
"Actually, it does," Dan replies. "Some of us have no-touching rules."  
  
"Oh." Frank laughs. "Gerard doesn’t."  
  
"Well, yeah, because he’s  _Gerard_.”  
  
At this point, I can get a good look at Kellin’s outfit, which currently consists of blue briefs and a white t-shirt. “Well, that’s a bit different from what you wore on Friday,” I note.  
  
Kellin rolls his eyes. “Tonight’s not as special. Plus, I already performed, so now it’s just lap dances and other fun things. I’m taking a break right now, but when I’m done I’ll take this shirt off.”  
  
Suddenly, a pale guy with black hair pokes Kellin on the shoulder. “Kell,” he says, his accent also distinctly British. “Someone specifically asked for you, so now he’s waiting. Better get back out there.”  
  
Kellin rolls his eyes, smiling. “Whatever, Phil. You’re not the boss of me.”  
  
Phil smiles a little. “I am, actually.”  
  
"Okay, okay, I’m going," he says, taking his shirt off and tossing it to Frank, who catches it in one hand and throws it somewhere in the back. "Bye, Vic," Kellin says cheerfully, walking away. I can’t help but admire his shirtless body.  
  
Then I remember that he’s heading off to give somebody a lap dance, or a blowjob, or something, and I can’t stop myself from feeling a small prick of jealousy. I know it’s just part of his job, but why does  _this_  have to be his job? His friends seem pretty cool, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to say the same about the customers. I’m still hung up over this whole thing in general. He acts so casual about it all, and that could mean that he’s going to treat me as casual, too. That’s not what I want. If I want anything at all with him, I don’t want it to just be a friends-with-benefits relationship or anything like that.  
  
I end up mostly just hanging out at the bar and chatting with Frank while he gives people their drinks. I don’t want to watch Kellin do things for other guys, so I try to keep my gaze away from the rest of the club so I don’t catch a glimpse of something.  
  
"Hey!" Kellin says when he comes back. "I didn’t think you’d stay this long. You didn’t have to, you know."  
  
"No, it’s fine," I say. "It’s…not that bad here, actually."  
  
Kellin beams. “See, I told you.” He sits down in the barstool next to me, resting a hand on my thigh. “It really isn’t that bad,” he continues absentmindedly, shifting his hand farther up until his fingers are brushing right against my crotch. “Once you get used to it…”  
  
I kind of want to smack his hand away, kind of want to tell him to keep his distance from me while I sort my emotions out, but that’s not what I do. I just let him tease me like this, pressing a few fingers down and causing me to gasp a little.  
  
"Tonight, when you get home," he says, voice low and rough as he switches from cheerful to sensual, "I bet you’ll jerk off to the thought of me. Bet you’ll remember just how good it felt to have your cock in my mouth." He starts to palm me through my jeans, right here in front of everyone. "Bet you’ll think about what would happen if we went a little farther…"  
  
My breath hitches slightly. He’s turning me on so blatantly, and I want to tell him to stop, but at the same time, that’s the last thing I want him to do.  
  
"You’ll get so hard thinking about me in your bed, all sweaty and moaning as you slam into me over and over again, and you’ll jerk yourself off to the thought of how I’d sound screaming your name…"  
  
As he’s saying this, I can’t help but picture it all in my head. That’s when he stops, pulling his hand away and abruptly reverting back to the cheerful Kellin. “Well, it’s been a fun night,” he says, knowing full well what he’s just done to me. “See you around!” He kisses me on the cheek, and then he just walks away again.  
  
After a brief moment, I find myself getting up and leaving, heading back to my car and sitting down in the driver’s seat, breathing deeply.  
  
Before I know it, I find myself doing what he said, jerking myself off as his voice runs through my head.  
  
 _Bet you’ll remember just how good it felt to have your cock in my mouth…_  
  
I lean my head back, picturing him on his knees and blowing me the same way he did Friday night. I moan when I imagine the way those briefs and stockings made his ass look so tight, the way it felt when I cupped it in my hand, the way he moved his hips on top of me. I never thought I’d be doing this, but soon enough, I think of exactly the things he said I’d think of. The thought of him screaming my name is what pushes me over the edge, making me come into my hand. “K-Kellin…”  
  
I can’t believe what he does to me. Every time I start to think that maybe this won’t work, he finds a way to reel me back in. He knows how bad I’ve got it for him. I’m not sure whether to love him or hate him.


	5. Figure You Out

“I hate to break it to you, Vic, but I think he might just be playing with you.”  
  
It’s late, and Mike and I are sitting out on the couch in the living room, neither of us tired yet. I’ve just finished telling him everything—minus the part about jerking off—in the hopes that he could help me figure things out, and this is the conclusion that he seems to have drawn about Kellin.  
  
"What makes you say he’s playing with me?" I ask, acting dumb. I know what evidence he has, but I don’t really want to believe it.  
  
"Come on," he says. "At school he completely ignores you, but outside of school, he’s your best friend? And Tony told me about the way he flirted with that guy at the party. I know they didn’t actually have sex, but do you really think it hasn’t led to that a hundred times before? I mean, even if he has boyfriends, how do you think he keeps a guy around for longer than a week with the things he does? The other people he’s fucking?"  
  
"Maybe he doesn’t do that when he’s in a relationship," I reply. "Have a lot of sex, I mean. Maybe that’s just something he likes to do while he’s single."  
  
Mike raises an eyebrow. “And you’re going to accept that having sex with someone new almost every night is just  _something he likes to do_?”  
  
I shrug, biting my lip. I’ll admit that it makes me a bit uncomfortable, how much time he devotes to sex. Is there even room for anything else with people, or is that the only thing he cares about?  
  
Mike sighs. “I’m sorry, really I am, but I think Kellin’s a slut, and it looks like he’s taking you as a challenge.” He shakes his head. “Fuck. This is my fault, isn’t it?”  
  
"No, it’s not," I say, the word  _slut_  still ringing in the back of my mind. “Something would’ve happened eventually. I would’ve found out somehow.”  
  
"Yeah, but now he’s interested in you."  
  
Suddenly, I remember something that Frank said earlier. “Strippers hardly ever date their clients,” I blurt.  
  
Mike narrows his eyes. “What?”  
  
"Strippers. They hardly ever date their clients," I say. "The people that they meet while they’re doing their job, the people they’ve danced for. Which means that if he’s interested in me, it’s not because of what happened on Friday. It means he was interested in me before that."  
  
He nods slowly. “How long will that interest last, though? I’m not trying to be the devil’s advocate or anything like that, I swear. I’m just worried, I guess. About…y’know.”  
  
I stand up from the couch, pushing away the thoughts of what he’s worried about. “Well, let’s just see what happens,” I say dismissively. “I’m gonna try not to think too much about it.”  
  
I mean, we both know that I’m going to end up thinking too much about it anyway, but at least we can believe that I’m trying not to.  
  
—  
  
Again, Kellin is completely silent at school the next day. I notice a couple of kids pointing at him and whispering before first period, but he just ducks his head and rushes away. I don’t know if he’s trying to ignore me or if he just doesn’t see me when I’m motioning for him to come over, but it’s getting frustrating, because I kind of want to talk to him. I kind of want to ask him where we stand, where he wants us to stand, because I’m not really sure of either of those things myself.  
  
I can’t seem to find him when the dismissal bell rings, though. He’s somewhere in the sea of people, but he always tends to be one of the very last people out of the building, so I guess I’m just going to have to wait if I want to talk to him.  
  
As I’m waiting, though, I start to think that maybe I don’t want to talk to him. Or maybe I do. I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel about any of this, and Mike’s suspicions are just making it even harder to come to a conclusion. Jesus Christ, it all seems so  _tedious_. It feels like I should be able to just say with absolute certainty whether I’m into him or not, whether I approve of him or not, whether I’m willing to take a risk with him or not. I kind of want to just grab myself by the shoulders and shake myself, screaming, “Make up your fucking mind, Vic!”  
  
Just as I’m starting to walk away from the school and its mostly empty parking lot, Kellin’s voice calls out, “Hey, Vic, hold up!”  
  
I turn around, and there he is, quickly walking toward me. I step back to the spot where I was waiting, against the side of the building. That’s the moment that Kellin catches up to me, staring at me for a long moment before smiling lazily. “You’re really pretty,” he says slowly. “You know that?”  
  
I narrow my eyes. Something about him seems a bit off. “I, um…”  
  
Kellin takes a step toward me, giggling a little. “Your lips,” he says, eyes half-closed. “I’m going to kiss them.”  
  
I don’t have the time to process what he’s just said, because then he leans forward, closing his eyes and pressing his lips against mine. For a few moments, I’m stunned, but then I find myself kissing back, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him closer to me. He wraps his own arms around my neck, threading his fingers into my hair as we kiss, surprisingly gently. His lips are so soft, but there’s a hint of a strange taste in his mouth, a taste I know all too well.  
  
Letting go of him, I pull away slightly, looking him over before meeting his bloodshot eyes. “Are you high?”  
  
Kellin pulls away, shrugging and leaning against the wall. “Maybe a little. But it’s no big deal.” He laughs a little, even though there’s nothing funny. “It’s whatever.”  
  
That hits me hard, the sight of him like this. It hits me hard enough for me to make a decision: I don’t want to be with someone like this. He’s the type of person I’ve been trying to avoid.  
  
"Kellin…" I start, but I don’t know where to go from there. What do I say? How do I say it?  
  
"Well, I should be getting home," Kellin says, standing and nudging me as he walks past me. "See ya."  
  
I can’t help but stare after him, still trying to process the feeling of his lips moving against mine. It feels weird, because this is what I’ve wanted for so long, but now that I have it, I don’t even want it anymore. I mean, I kind of do, in a way, but I’m deluding myself. I’ve wanted a kiss from the quiet Kellin, the innocent one, but it seems that he doesn’t really exist, so it looks like I have to let him go. I don’t want the Kellin who takes his clothes off for a living, who likes to give me something he knows I want and then leave me hanging. I don’t want the Kellin who toys with people like that.  
  
But I’ll admit that he’s a pretty damn good kisser, even when he’s high.  
  
—  
  
I don’t tell Mike the details of what happened, instead offering a simple “I think it’s all over between Kellin and I.” Mike raises his eyebrows at that, asking for elaboration, but when I don’t give it to him, he just shrugs and walks away. He knows when I don’t want to talk too much about something.  
  
At around dinnertime, he and I agree on ordering pizza. I call the place—which, by the way, doesn’t deliver—and after hanging up, I tell him, “You’re gonna be picking up this bitch.”  
  
Mike snorts. “Ha! No.”  
  
I roll my eyes, holding my hand out in a fist. Without question, Mike does, too—nothing like settling debates with some good, old-fashioned Rock, Paper, Scissors. I choose scissors, which Mike beats with his rock. Damn him.  
  
"I believe you’re picking the pizza up," he states, smirking.  
  
I roll my eyes again. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”  
  
After about twenty minutes or so, I hop in the car and drive into the city, where everything is. I pick up the pizza with no problem, but as I’m driving back down the city streets, I happen to look over to my side, which is when I see something. Well, some _one_.  
  
Kellin is sitting down with his back against the wall, wiping at his eyes. It’s dark out, but I can still see how flushed and worked up he is, the way his chest quickly rises and falls as he covers his face with his hands. He’s completely alone, and if there are any other people who see him crying, it looks like they don’t really care.  
  
Before I know it, I’m pulling the car over, and Kellin glances up, surprised. Leaning over and opening up the passenger side door, I call out, “It’s okay, it’s me.”  
  
After a few moments, Kellin reluctantly stands up, heading over to me. I grab the pizza and put it in the back so that he can climb in and sit down, and once he does that, he closes the door and turns to me. “Why…” His voice is cracked and watery. “Why a-are you…?”  
  
I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t hurt to see him like this. In fact, it hurts like hell, and I can’t help but reach my hand out to brush a few of the tears away. Right now, nothing else matters except for the fact that he’s upset. I can deny it all I want, but the reality is that I want to kill the person who made him cry.  
  
"Because," I say softly, in response to his question. "It looked like you needed it."  
  
Kellin just nods. “Where are we going?”  
  
"I’m taking you home," I tell him. "Where’s your house?"  
  
He wipes at his eyes some more. “It’s not very far,” he says, then proceeds to give me some fairly simple directions. I nod, and then I’m back on the road.  
  
After a few moments of neither of us saying anything, the only noise being the sounds of the city and Kellin’s soft sniffling, I can’t help but ask, “So what happened?”  
  
Kellin doesn’t say anything for a while, but just when I think that he’s not going to answer, he sniffles a little bit more and says, “Dad’s leaving. My fault.”  
  
I take a quick glance at him, noting the sadness in his expression. “How is it your fault?”  
  
"He doesn’t approve of…me." His voice cracks, and for the first time, I notice his words slurring. "He says he doesn’t care what happens; either I stop doing what I’m doing, or he leaves me and my mom. I didn’t stop, and Mom didn’t make me stop, a-and he tried to make me stop, but I snuck out and Mom let me, and when he found out he said he refuses to support a fuck-up like me or a ‘stupid bitch’ like my mom—that’s what he called her—and now he’s leaving."  
  
I reach over and grab his shaking hand, holding onto it tightly and comfortingly. I hate seeing him so worked up. “Hey,” I say softly. “It’s not your fault, okay?”  
  
"How is it not my fault?" he says. "It is. If it weren’t for me, my parents would still be happily married. God, I ruined their fucking  _marriage_.”  
  
"You didn’t." There’s a pain in my chest from hearing him talk about himself this way. "It’s your dad’s fault if he can’t accept you the way you are." I can’t help but think that I’m talking about myself, too.  
  
"He shouldn’t have to deal with someone like me," Kellin says. "He didn’t sign up for this."  
  
At that, I pull the car over again, suddenly angry. Tilting his face toward me and looking right into his eyes, I say, “Yes, he did. When you decide to be a parent, you’ve gotta be ready for anything. As long as it’s not hurting someone, your parents are supposed to accept what you do, and they’re supposed to love you and respect you and take care of you. They’re supposed to  _not_  abandon you. They’re supposed to be ready to accept their kid if that kid turns out to be gay or trans or an atheist or God knows what else. So it’s not the kid’s fault if they were raised by people who weren’t ready for that.”  
  
I’m just as surprised as Kellin is by my outburst, and honestly, I’m not quite sure where it came from. Most of it isn’t even about me—my parents have never really disapproved of me or Mike. It’s just that I’m angry, angry at Kellin’s father for making him feel this way.  
  
Kellin just nods again, and for a few moments, we’re both silent. Then I ask, “What were you doing out anyways?”  
  
Kellin bites his lip. “Trying to get drunk.”  
  
Now that he says it, I don’t know how I didn’t realize it before. I guess I just thought the signs had more to do with the fact that he was crying. But with the disorientation, the slurring words, the bloodshot eyes, the honest way he talks…it’s clear now that he’s at least somewhat drunk.  
  
I don’t know what to say, but Kellin doesn’t seem to, either, so for the rest of the short ride, we just sit in a tense silence punctuated by the leftovers of his little breakdown. Then I find myself nearing a small, unfamiliar house, which Kellin states is his.  
  
"Thank you," he says softly as he climbs out of the car. "Really."  
  
"No problem," I reply, watching him as he makes his way slightly unsteadily up to the front door and stumbles a little on his way in. Even after he disappears, I can’t bring myself to leave until I know for sure that he’s okay. So, with my natural curiosity getting the best of me yet again, I shut the car off and hop out, hiding in the shadows of the outer wall on the right side of the house. I feel weird doing this—Vic the Stalker strikes again—but if his parents are disagreeing, or even arguing, then I want to be around to make sure things don’t get bad or something. To be honest, I have no idea what his family is like. All I know is what he just told me, and considering that his dad doesn’t exactly seem like the kindest person, I think I have the right to be mildly concerned.  
  
Or maybe I’m just paranoid that something bad is going to happen.  
  
It’s only a few moments before the yelling starts up with a man’s loud, thunderous “ _Kellin_!”  
  
Not everything else is as clear, but I can hear Kellin’s voice, shortly followed by a woman’s. His dad is obviously pissed, and Kellin seems to be arguing right back, while his mom sounds…I don’t know, defensive? Yeah, that’s it.  
  
Whatever it is that they’re saying, it doesn’t sound pretty, and after only a few minutes, angry footsteps pound down the hallway of the one-story house. I can still hear Kellin’s parents talking, a bit quieter now, so it must’ve been Kellin who abandoned the conversation.  
  
Sure enough, a light flicks on in the window right next to me, and when I turn around, I see a figure through the window. Now I can see that, yes, it is Kellin, pacing back and forth in what looks like a small bedroom, all flushed and upset as he wipes a few more tears away. I knock on the window to get his attention.  
  
He jumps a little and looks my way, then heads over and opens the window up. He narrows his eyes. “Vic?”  
  
I do a little wave, suddenly realizing just how weird this is. “Um…yeah. Hi.”  
  
He quirks his lips up a little, pushing aside the tension of what just happened. “Are you stalking me?”  
  
"Um…" I can’t exactly claim that this isn’t what it looks like because, yeah, it’s pretty much exactly what it looks like. "I wanted to check to make sure you were okay," I say truthfully. "I mean, I don’t know what I thought would happen, but…I don’t know." I shrug awkwardly.  
  
Kellin’s smile gets a bit wider. “Some people might take that as creepy,” he says. “But believe me, I’ve dealt with way creepier. You’re sweet. I like you.”  
  
I smile back at him, relieved both that he’s feeling good enough to make jokes and that he doesn’t think I’m some creepy stalker. I definitely believe it, though—that he’s dealt with creepier.  
  
"So…um…are you okay?" I ask worriedly, thinking of his father’s harsh-sounding voice. Instinctively, I reach through the window and lightly touch his hand, which is resting on the windowsill, as if to comfort him.  
  
He nods quickly, glancing down at the contact and smiling a little. “Yeah, I’m okay now. I just kind of lost it for a little while there.” He lets out a deep breath, looking a bit worn out, but also relieved. “Sorry you had to deal with that. I can usually control myself better.”  
  
I can’t help but think that it’s a little strange, the way he says that:  _I can usually control myself better._  As if he has to keep himself on a leash.  
  
"No, it’s fine," I assure him. "I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow, then?"  
  
He nods, taking my hand in his for a brief moment and squeezing it. “Tomorrow.”  
  
Once I get back into the car and start to drive home, I remember that only a few hours earlier, I decided that I didn’t want anything to do with Kellin. Now, though…now I’m not so sure. He showed me something real tonight, a deeper side that I didn’t expect. Maybe I’m judging him too quickly. Maybe there’s a lot more to him than what meets the eye.  
  
When I get back, Mike asks me, “Hey, why’s this pizza cold? What took you so long?”  
  
"I ran into someone," I reply. "It was kind of an emergency." And that’s all the detail I give.


	6. Kisses Underwater

“Hey, Vic, wanna come swimming with me and some of my boys tonight?”  
  
I turn around at the sound of Kellin’s voice. I’m walking out of the school, right after dismissal, and he’s right on my heels, which is unusual. He’s normally one of the last people out—it’s as if he actually made an effort to catch up with me so that he could talk to me. He still ignores me during school hours, though.  
  
"Swimming?" I say, leaning against the nearby wall. "In  _February_?”  
  
"Yeah, Matt’s got an indoor pool at his house. It could be fun." He smiles widely, seeming genuinely enthusiastic about this idea.  
  
"Uh…who are your ‘boys’, exactly?" I ask. I know of a few people named Matt, but it’s a pretty common name.  
  
"Uh, Oli Sykes, Matt Nicholls, that whole group."  
  
I bite my lip. I don’t know that much about those guys, but I haven’t heard the best of things about them. It sounds a bit strange, too, the way Kellin talks about them—his  _boys_. Possessive, as if he owns them or something.  
  
"Um," I say. Great response, Vic.  
  
"You don’t have to if you don’t want to," Kellin replies quickly. "I was just thinking, y’know, since I’m not working tonight, and we were going swimming anyways…if you wanted to, like, hang out at someplace that isn’t a club or anything like that." He steps forward, gaze flicking down to my lips. "I think it’d definitely be a lot of fun…"  
  
I kind of want to talk to him about everything—about the way he flirts with me, about the kiss yesterday, about a certain incident that involves him getting me horny and then leaving me to finish myself off. But there’s just something about the way he’s looking at me—yes, there’s the far-too-blatant way he’s staring at my lips, but I think there’s something else, too. Behind the sexual desire, I see…hope. As if he really does want me to come with him for no reason other than to just be in his presence.  
  
"Um, sure," I say slowly. "I’ll come with you."  
  
Kellin’s attention switches back from my lips to my face, his eyes lighting up. “Hell yes! We’ll pick you up at seven!” Before I can respond, he bounces away, looking for all the world like someone who just won the lottery.  
  
I tell Mike that I’m going out somewhere tonight, but I don’t tell him where, which pisses him off. He says he thinks it has something to do with Kellin, even though last night I said that it was over between us. He’s right on the mark, but I’m not telling him that.  
  
I change into a swimsuit and put my clothes back on over it, wondering why the hell I’m even doing this. I don’t really have an interest in going night-swimming, but Kellin does, and that’s reason enough for me. I want to see if I can figure him out a little bit more. I want to figure out where I stand with him—and, more importantly, where I even  _want_  to stand with him. I want to be able to decide for sure whether or not to just forget about him and move the fuck on already. That might be a better option than trying to have some sort of relationship with him, but I’d be lying if I said that I really want to do that. I know that’s what I thought yesterday, but I can’t shake the image of the hopeful spark in his eyes as he looked at me when he asked me whether or not I wanted to come with him. Maybe I’m not the best at reading emotions, but I can tell that there was something deeper behind that question. I think he genuinely does want to hang out with me.  
  
Or maybe I’m being too optimistic.  
  
Sure enough, only a few minutes after seven, an unfamiliar car pulls up next to my house. Mike glances out the window at it, narrowing his eyes. “Who the hell are they?”  
  
"People," I reply dismissively, heading out the door. "I’ll tell you about it later. Maybe."  
  
He just flips me off and doesn’t say anything else.  
  
Kellin waves at me from where he’s sitting in shotgun. “Hey!” he says when I hop into the empty backseat. “So, everyone else is already at the house. Oli came to pick me up, and then you.” He nods at the person driving, who must be Oli.  
  
"Hi," Oli says as he pulls back out onto the road. "So, do you, y’know, do these types of things often?"  
  
The question sounds a bit weird, but I try to ignore it. “Um…sure?” I say, feeling somewhat out of the loop. “Like, I swim pretty often, I guess.”  
  
Oli must sense my confusion, because he turns to Kellin and says, “I take it you didn’t tell him?”  
  
Kellin shrugs—I can see his face turning slightly red in the rearview mirror. “He never would’ve come if I’d told him.”  
  
I frown. “Tell me what?”  
  
"Uh, I’ll tell you when we get there. Don’t worry about it."  
  
This, of course, just makes me even more curious.  
  
I try not to think about that, though, instead focusing my attention on Oli. He seems pretty friendly, but I can’t help but notice the way he keeps looking over at Kellin as they’re talking about random things on the short drive. There’s a glint in his eyes that’s different from the smile on his lips and the casual tone of his voice.  
  
When we get to the large house, four guys rush out of the front door, some of them already shirtless despite the cold weather. “Hey, Oli,” one yells. “Do we have our little whore for the night?”  
  
Oli grins as we hop out of the car. “You bet we do,” he says teasingly, glancing at Kellin. “Best in the whole town.”  
  
"Best in the whole  _state_ ,” Kellin corrects, smirking a little, “and if you don’t believe me, I can show you. I have  _ways_.”  
  
One of the guys smacks Kellin’s ass as we head inside. Unexpectedly, I hear a protective little voice in my head hissing,  _Mine!_  
  
If Kellin minds that particular action, he doesn’t show it, and it’s at this point that I realize what’s going on here. He may have called them his boys, but he doesn’t own them— _they_  own  _him_.  
  
They lead me past the living room and into the large kitchen. This whole place looks really nice—not necessarily a mansion or anything too crazy, but definitely bigger and fancier than the average middle-class house. The kitchen has five lights hanging down from the ceiling, right over a large breakfast bar with five barstools, positioned so that if you sat in one of the seats and were turned toward the bar, your back would be to a screen door. The door leads out to a separate room that’s almost completely see-through, even the ceiling, so that it sort of looks like it’s outside even though it’s not. That’s where the pool is.  
  
"By the way, guys," Kellin says, leaning against the bar, "I brought Vic along with us, as you can probably tell." He gestures to me. "He’s not really used to these types of things, so you might want to go easy on him."  
  
"Uh, yeah, speaking of that," I say slowly, glancing at the pool, "what’s the plot twist to this whole thing? That you and Oli mentioned in the car?"  
  
Kellin bites his lip. “Well, see, we mostly use this pool—when I’m around, at least—we mostly use it for, um…skinny dipping.”  
  
I just stare at him. I can hardly believe it. He invited me here to go  _skinny dipping_.  
  
"Come on," one of the guys says, making his way over to the screen door. "We’ve got the whole place to ourselves tonight, so I say we make the most of it." His gaze flits to Kellin for a brief moment, but not brief enough that I don’t notice the look in his eyes.  
  
"Actually, um…" I start, but Kellin just takes my hand and leads me into the room, which is a bit warmer than the rest of the house and smells like chlorine. Then the guys are pulling all their clothes off, laughing and yelling like a bunch of animals. I look away, because while I may be gay, this isn’t exactly something I really want to see.  
  
 _Not unless it’s Kellin,_  adds a voice in the back of my mind. I tell it to go jump off a bridge.  
  
"Are you coming in?" Kellin asks, smiling innocently and reaching up to undo some of the buttons on my shirt.  
  
"Uh, I don’t think so," I reply, wincing when his face falls. "I mean, you didn’t tell me it’d be like this. And with all these people, isn’t it a bit…I don’t know…slutty?" I wince again, this time at my own terrible choice of words. But I’m not sure how else to put it.  
  
"Well, you don’t have to get naked," Kellin points out. He steps away, gracefully pulling his own shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. Then he turns back to me, an insanely attractive smile tugging at the edges of his lips. "Also: There’s nothing wrong with being a bit of a slut." He winks.  
  
"Hey, little bitch, you coming in or what?" calls one of the guys from the pool in the middle of all their fucking around.  
  
"Yeah, I’ll be right there!" Kellin says, pulling his jeans off with a bit of difficulty. "Christ, skinny jeans are so hard to get off. If I ever meet a stripper who can do it and make it look hot, I’m paying them every bit of money I have. Plus some of Gerard’s."  
  
And then he’s standing in front of me with absolutely nothing covering him, and I can’t help but admire every inch of his body, from his hair to his shoulder blades and back muscles to his hips, and his ass is so damn  _fine_ , and that’s not something I ever thought I’d be saying about someone’s ass—  
  
"I see you like the view," he comments, snapping me out of my thoughts. Before I can respond, he jumps into the pool, and I sigh, unbuttoning my shirt and pulling it off before following it up with my pants. Guess I might as well join in on the fun.  
  
It’s sort of awkward being the only person wearing a swimsuit, but I don’t really want to be completely naked in front of these guys. They don’t seem to care if I see them, but I do, so for the most part I just try to avoid looking down into the water. I’m uncomfortable at first, but Kellin spends quite a bit of time away from the others, seeming to be focusing solely on me.  
  
Surprisingly, he doesn’t really draw much attention to the fact that he has no clothes on, despite his occupation and how he’s been acting. Then again, he’s probably so used to being naked (and seeing other people naked) that it doesn’t even faze him much anymore.  
  
But I don’t think Kellin’s “boys” are too happy with all the attention he’s giving me, especially not Oli. At first, I think it’s just me being jealous and paranoid, but the longer I’m in there, the more I start to notice his subtle hostility, like an overprotective boyfriend who just caught his girlfriend hanging out with another guy. (God, they aren’t  _dating_ , are they?) Kellin seems oblivious to this, though—or if he notices, he doesn’t care—so for the most part, I ignore it.  
  
"Hey, Vic," he says at one point, leaning against the side of the pool on the shallower end. "Why are you so…like…uptight? I’m not trying to be rude, I swear; I’m just curious."  
  
I lean against the side, mirroring his position. “I just…don’t usually like these kinds of things,” I say truthfully. “I’ve been involved with dangerous people before, and I want to get away from that scene.”  
  
"But I’m not dangerous."  
  
"Oh, yeah? Tell me that after you’ve given me AIDS," I joke, smiling to let him know that I’m kidding. He still seems mildly offended, though.  
  
"I don’t have AIDS," he says, pouting in a way that, I’ll admit, I find really fucking adorable. "Does this mean that you’d push me away if I kissed you?"  
  
Suddenly, I become very aware of just how close his wet, naked body is to mine. His lips are right there, pink and promising.  
  
I lean forward so that my mouth is only inches away from his. “Why don’t you find out?”  
  
He doesn’t even hesitate.  
  
There’s no innocence or sweetness in this kiss; it’s hot and fast, and I can’t say I’m complaining. With one hand, I tangle my fingers in his dripping wet hair, using the other to grab his pretty ass (fuck, I think I have a kink). He presses his body closer to mine, wrapping his arms around my neck and grinding himself against me. I moan softly into his mouth.  
  
"I want to try something," he says against my lips, stepping backwards and guiding me so that we never break the kiss. We’re going deeper and deeper into the water, until I finally understand what Kellin wants to try to do.  
  
In a silent agreement, we both pull away and take a deep breath, reconnecting our lips just before we dunk our heads completely below the surface, and it’s a little awkward and strange at first, but we’re doing it—we’re kissing underwater.  
  
All the chaos around us is muffled, and the only thing I know is that for these short moments, I don’t care if I can’t breathe, because I’m kissing Kellin, and it’s worth it.  
  
We have to come up for air after a few seconds, though, and that’s the moment when Matt says, “Shit, guys, it’s really late. My parents will be here any minute.”  
  
At first I think he’s just saying that so Kellin and I will stop making out, but after grudgingly hopping out of the pool and checking my phone, I find that he’s right—it’s a lot later than I thought it was, the moon and stars shining brightly above us. It’s only a few minutes before his parents are supposed to get home. Just as I was starting to have a bit of fun.  
  
"Well, thanks for hanging out with us," Kellin says to me as we’re quickly drying off and putting our clothes back on. "Really. You made the night a lot better." He smirks a little. "Even though you didn’t take your clothes off."  
  
I smile back at him. “It was my pleasure.”


	7. Interlude I: Bad Reputation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, this is the first in a series of mini-chapters called “Interludes,” which I mentioned in the author’s note of the prologue. As I stated before, these interludes will all be in Kellin’s POV. There will probably be at least 3-5 of them total throughout this fic, maybe more, and they’ll all be pretty short, less than 1k words.
> 
> So, there you have it. Enjoy.

Sometimes, I forget my own name.  
  
It’s not that hard to believe, really, when you think about it. At school, people hardly ever acknowledge my existence—most of them probably don’t even  _know_  my name. And at work, I don’t go by my real name anyways; it’s just Kell, though most of the time, people don’t call me that, either. Instead, they call me “slut”, “whore”, “bitch”, “hot thing”, maybe “pretty boy” or “baby” on a good day. About a week ago, I overheard a group of girls in school talking, and one of them said, “God, she’s such a slut.” In that particular moment, I remember that my head whipped around automatically, so used to being referred to as a slut that the word has become more familiar to me than the name I was given at birth.  
  
Kellin Quinn Bostwick? Who the hell is  _that_? Oh, you mean that pretty little whore?  
  
Yeah. That’s me.  
  
It’s gotten to the point that I just accept all the things people say about me. I’m a whore? You bet I am. I fuck anything that moves? Well, as long as that thing is a human with a dick, I guess you’re not too far off the mark. Sex is the only thing I’ll ever be good for? I hate to admit it, but you’re probably right about that.  
  
Now, Vic…Vic’s a bit different. Vic still calls me Kellin. Vic still treats me like a person. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I’ve always liked him—I’ve never seen him mistreat anyone, no matter his opinion of them or what they might do. He’s only ever rude to people who are rude to him or someone else first. I don’t meet people like that too often.  
  
"Hey, Kell, whatcha spacing out for?"  
  
Oli’s voice breaks me out of my thoughts. We’ve just dropped Vic off, and now it’s only us in the car as he drives to my house next.  
  
"I—uh, I don’t know," I say, rubbing my eyes. "Just tired, I guess."  
  
"Don’t wanna smoke a joint or anything?" he asks, glancing at me with a raised eyebrow.  
  
I just shake my head, and he doesn’t respond. He knows when I’m not in the mood for anything like that. Sometimes he argues, tries to persuade me, but this time he just lets me be.  
  
"May I ask why you brought Goody Two-Shoes along with us tonight?" he asks casually, though I can sense something a bit deeper behind the question.  
  
"He’s a friend," I say simply, looking away in case my face betrays me. "He’s…I don’t know. I just like him."  
  
"Well, last I checked, he doesn’t like sluts," Oli points out. There’s that word again.  
  
"That doesn’t make much sense," I reply, "because I’m pretty sure he likes me, at least a little bit."  
  
"So…what? You making him your new challenge or something?"  
  
I want to tell him that it’s so much more than that. I want to talk about Vic’s deep brown eyes or the curls in his hair. I want to talk about how when he smiles or laughs, it looks as if all his worries and problems and responsibilities don’t exist. I want to talk about how I feel something new and different whenever I’m around him, how he’s so much more than the “normal”, good-guy façade that he puts up.  
  
Instead, though, I just say, “I think I like him  _for_  him, Oli. Even if we do have sex…I don’t think I want it to stop there. I don’t think I want it to be just another one-night stand.”  
  
Oli glances at me, looking almost disbelieving. “Who are you and what have you done with Kellin Quinn?”  
  
I know he means for it to be a joke, but it still stings a little. It makes me feel like I have to prove that I can have emotions other than pure lust. It makes me feel like people don’t think I can feel anything deeper than that.  
  
I guess I should just shut my mouth and stop complaining. My reputation is my own damn fault anyways. I just wish it didn’t have to be like this.  
  
But we can’t have everything, can we?


	8. Trying to Be Something More

I can hear Mike’s voice before I even open the front door. It seems as if he’s talking to empty air, but that just probably means he’s talking either to someone on the phone or to Mom, who tends to not respond to things, especially at this time of night.  
  
Sure enough, when I walk into the house, I see Mike pacing back and forth in the living room, occasionally glancing back at the couch where Mom is lying down. Her eyes are open but glazed, seeming to stare at nothing; she looks ten years older than she did one year ago.  
  
"Are you even listening to me?" Mike’s yelling. "You don’t even feel like my mom anymore. You’re just this…this  _shell_. It hurt me, too, damn it! It hurt all of us! But I got up and I kept going, and you just fucking shut down on us!” He clenches his hands into fists, looking like he’s trying not to punch something. His voice is desperate and angry. “Don’t just stare at me;  _say_  something, goddamn it!  _Anything_!”  
  
"Mike," I interrupt from where I’m standing in the doorway to the living room. "Mike, stop."  
  
Mike turns around to face me, shooting daggers with his eyes. “You don’t get to say anything,” he snaps. “And where the fuck were you all night? I know you were with Kellin somewhere. Thought you said it was over between you two.”  
  
"That doesn’t matter right now," I say, trying to keep my voice calm in contrast to his explosive rage. "Please, just…stop." In all honesty, it scares me a little when he gets like this, though it doesn’t happen as often as it did a year ago.  
  
"She’s a fucking wreck," Mike spits, talking about Mom as if she isn’t even there, though I admit that she probably won’t remember any of this in the morning.  
  
"And screaming at her is going to make her better?" I point out.  
  
Mike just glares at me. “I can see why you defend her. You did the same thing. Nearly fucking destroyed yourself. And then you got better, and now you’re hanging out with a slut, and you’re ready to destroy yourself all over again.”  
  
"What does me hanging out with Kellin have to do with any of this?" I say, suddenly feeling defensive. This is private, a family problem. He doesn’t need to bring Kellin into it.  
  
"God, you’re just always attracted to the ones that’ll kill you. First Beau the drug dealer, and now Kellin the stripper."  
  
"Getting naked isn’t exactly something that kills you, necessarily," I say, remembering Kellin’s words from earlier:  _But I’m not dangerous._  
  
"Do you really think it’s that fucking simple? Has he gotten into your head already? You said you’d never get involved in any of this shit. Sex, drugs, violence—it’s all there, and it’s all gonna fuck you up. Again." He gestures to Mom. "Just like the alcohol’s fucking her up."  
  
He’s a bit quieter now, but he hasn’t lost his intensity. His eyes are burning into me, and behind all that anger, I see something: fear. It’s that fear that makes me really understand what he’s saying. He’s angry because he’s afraid, and he’s afraid because he’s lost too many people in his life already. He’s afraid because Mom really is destroying herself, and he doesn’t want to lose her, too. He’s afraid because I almost destroyed myself only a few months ago, and he doesn’t want me to go back to that dark place ever again.  
  
But as I’m watching him, I realize what it is that’s been bugging me throughout this entire argument. It’s the unsteadiness of his body, the slurring of his words, the red rims around his eyes and the flush of his cheeks, the sheer uncontrolled anger that’s released as he speaks. He’s being a hypocrite, talking about people destroying themselves. He’s drunk, something he hasn’t been in a while—I thought he was getting better. He’s destroying himself, too. We all are.  
  
"Mike, please," I say softly, a pain in my chest just from looking at him. He never used to be this angry. He never used to get drunk like this. The past year has been hard on him. "I just want my brother back."  
  
He sighs. “I could say the same about you.”  
  
—  
  
"So, who fucked you last night? Or can’t you even remember his name?"  
  
It’s the same two guys from the other day, and just like that morning, they’ve got their sights set on Kellin, who has his innocent façade back in place. He’s standing by his locker, turning away and trying to ignore the harsh words.  
  
"Why don’t you ever talk, huh?" One of the guys shoves him slightly. "Does sucking all that dick do something to your vocal cords? Have you swallowed so much cum that now you’ve got an STD in your mouth or some shit?"  
  
Kellin still doesn’t say anything, hugging his books to his chest and staring down at the floor as if it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.  
  
"Little bitch," the other guy says. "I’ll make you talk." He steps closer, way too close for comfort, and Kellin makes a tiny squeak, backing up into the lockers in a futile attempt to get away. His eyes are wide with alarm.  
  
"Hey!" I shout, storming over to them. The guy steps back immediately, holding his hands up.  
  
"Whoa, calm your tits," he says. "What’s your problem?"  
  
"My  _problem_ ,” I spit, “is that he doesn’t want you to get that close to him.”  
  
"How do you know?" he shoots back. "The little whore probably liked it. And I’m not even a fag. I wasn’t actually gonna do anything. It was just a joke. Jesus Christ."  
  
"Yeah? Well, I don’t think you’re very funny," I say coldly, imagining how satisfying it’d be to punch him in the face. "And neither does he." I gesture to Kellin, who looks like he wants to disappear. "So fuck off before I make you regret ever speaking to him."  
  
The guys just glare at me, rolling their eyes before walking away.  
  
I turn back to Kellin. “Are you okay?” I ask him, just like the last time this happened.  
  
Unlike the last time, though, he doesn’t run away from me immediately. “I guess,” he says quietly. “I just don’t…don’t like how close he got to me. And maybe that’s my fault, but I just…I want to decide when someone’s allowed to touch me. Is that too much for a stupid, dirty slut to ask for?”  
  
"You’re not stupid," I say. "Ignore those assholes. They need to grow the fuck up and get over themselves."  
  
Kellin just nods, not looking entirely convinced. “I…okay. Thanks.” He flashes me the smallest of smiles before turning and walking away.  
  
My gaze shifts a little bit, which is when I notice Oli Sykes leaning against the lockers on the other side of the hall. His arms are folded across his chest, and he’s staring after Kellin. Then his eyes flit over to me, and I look away. He must’ve seen at least a little bit of what just happened, and he doesn’t look too happy, though I don’t think it’s at me. Nonetheless, I don’t stick around to get caught in any more drama.  
  
As I’m walking out of the building at dismissal, I try to ignore Beau’s voice this time, but if I could describe him in one word, it would be  _persistent_. I try to find at least one of my friends in the large crowds of students, but before I get a chance to really look, he grabs me by my arm and pulls me to the side.  
  
"Vic, come on," he says. "Who put you up to this? Your friends? Your brother? That slutty kid? Are you really going to keep on pretending that you hate me?"  
  
I try not to slap him across the face. “Nobody put me up to anything,” I say, clenching my jaw. “I broke up with you because you were toxic and I needed to get away from you.”  
  
"Bullshit!" he says, pulling a small bag of pills out of his pocket. "Look at this shit. You dug yourself into this hole with me, and now this is the kind of shit you need to survive. And you’re only gonna hurt yourself more the longer you try to deny it."  
  
"That shit nearly  _killed_  me,” I snap. “Don’t act like you’re so fucking innocent. Maybe I dug my own grave, but don’t pretend you’re not the one who gave me the shovel and told me I’d be better off six feet under. Now I’ve just climbed out, and I’m not letting you push me back in.”  
  
"If you really wanna stay away from this scene, you shouldn’t be hanging out with a drugged-up little whore," Beau shoots back. "I used to sell him shit, too, you know. He asked about you a lot. Not sure why. But he—"  
  
"Wait, what?" I say. "Back it up. You were Kellin’s dealer, too? How long ago was that? What did he ask?"  
  
"He and I parted ways a few months ago. I mean, I still try to talk to him, but he’s a lot like you in that aspect—not easy to reel back in. I don’t know why, since I catch him getting high sometimes, but it’s mostly with that Sykes kid—do you know him? Yeah, it’s mostly only when he’s with him and that whole group. Personally, I think there’s something going on between him and the Sykes kid, but whatever; that’s not my business. And yeah, he’d ask about you a lot. It was all casual at first, like, he’d ask how you were doing or what you were up to—just really random, general shit like that. Then it got a bit… _less_  casual. One day he just flat-out asked me, ‘How good do you think he’d be in bed?’ I’m not shitting you. That is an actual thing that Kellin fucking Quinn has said about you. And you and I were dating at that point—I don’t think he knew—and I remember I got all jealous and told him that I knew for a fact that you were very good in bed, and then I think he got the hint and stopped talking to me about you. But I know he was talking about you to other people. I guess he just saw you around a lot and thought you looked interesting. I don’t know. But he seemed to really have the hots for you.” He snorts. “ _And the slut fell in love with the prude._  Ha.”  
  
For a moment I don’t know what to say, but as it turns out, I don’t have to say anything, because that’s when Kellin himself calls out, “Oh my God, how many times do I have to tell you to leave us alone?”  
  
Beau and I both turn our heads in the direction of his voice. He looks like he’s holding himself back from attacking Beau. “Seriously,” he says. “We don’t want anything from you.” Then he glances at me, as if for confirmation.  
  
I nod, and Beau scowls. “Whatever,” he spits, before pushing past us and walking away.  
  
Kellin sighs, leaning up against the wall. “Jesus Christ. I wish the guy would just take a hint.”  
  
"I know," I say, matching his position. For a moment, we just stare at each other, and then I say, "Are you sure you’re okay? Y’know, because of what happened earlier? You seem kinda…" I trail off, because I’m not quite sure what word I’m looking for.  
  
Kellin nods, brushing some hair out of his face. “Yeah, it’s okay, really,” he says, flashing me a reassuring smile. “I just got kinda freaked out for a moment there. I’m used to it. But thanks for sticking up for me.”  
  
"Thanks for sticking up for  _me_ ,” I reply, laughing a little.  
  
He shrugs, all of a sudden acting modest. “No problem. I wanted to return the favor.”  
  
I shift a bit closer to him. In that moment, as he’s glancing away with the cold wind blowing his hair and the winter sun shining softly behind him, he’s so much more than a hot stripper guy, and I want to do so much more than just kiss him. I want to take him out to dinner and walk him up to his front door like a high school movie scene. I want to tell him some stupid pun that’ll make him laugh, just so I can hear the way that goddamn laugh floats through the air. I want to ask him questions about everything, want to know all the ins and outs of him, because there has to be more than what he shows on the surface. I want our relationship to be real and special and definite, and I want to know that he wants all that, too.  
  
"Beau told me," I say slowly, "that you used to ask him about me a lot."  
  
Kellin looks over at me, seeming a bit caught off-guard. “He did?”  
  
I nod, suddenly thinking that maybe Beau was just lying to get me to humiliate myself or something. It’s too late to take the words back now, though, so I just keep going.  
  
"Yeah. He, um…he said you seemed kind of interested in me."  
  
Kellin just keeps looking at me, his gaze never leaving my face. “I…yeah,” he says finally. “I was. Still am.”  
  
I’ve sort of known that for a while now, but my heart still skips a beat when I hear him say it. “You are?” And then I can’t help but add: “Why?”  
  
He gives me a small smile. “I don’t know, really,” he says. “I just saw you around school a lot, and then I noticed you and Beau hanging out, and I started to keep an eye on you. Not like stalking or anything, but I liked to see what you were up to if I happened to run into you. You just seemed like a really interesting person. I heard about the thing…y’know, with your dad…and then I saw you getting these drugs from Beau, and I started thinking about you and what you were doing, and, I don’t know, I just started thinking about what you were thinking, and…yeah.” His cheeks turn red. “I might’ve accidentally psychoanalyzed you a little bit. I don’t know. Like I said, I just thought you seemed really interesting. And then I guess I started thinking about you in more than just a friendly way, which might be kinda weird because we’d hardly ever spoken, and I wanted to go up to you and talk to you, but I was afraid of what you’d think about…you know. What I do.”  
  
I can’t stop myself from smiling. “You were afraid of what  _I_  would think?”  
  
Kellin nods, his cheeks turning even redder. “I guess I was paranoid that if you found out, you’d turn out to be an asshole and, like, tell the whole school or something.”  
  
"I’d never do that," I say automatically, and it’s the truth.  
  
Kellin just gives me that adorable little smile again. “So, what about you?” he says. “What got you interested in me? Out of all people in this goddamn school, what the hell did you find so appealing about me?”  
  
Now my face is heating up. “I—I just noticed you in the halls one day,” I say. “I was walking past you, and I remember you tripped and nearly dropped all your stuff, but you saved yourself and kept going. And you just sort of sparked my interest. You were so quiet, always staying in the background, and that fascinated me. You had an air of mystery. I wanted to know everything about you.” I brush my hand lightly against his. “Still do.”  
  
He looks down at where our hands are touching, making no effort to move his. “You might not like everything you see,” he says, the smile starting to fade. “Don’t try to deny it.”  
  
I don’t try to deny it.  
  
"I just have one question," I say, finally getting the chance to ask the one thing that’s been eating away at me. "Kellin, are you serious about this? About us? Or is this just another fling?"  
  
Kellin takes my hand and intertwines his fingers with mine. “I’m serious,” he says, staring right into my eyes. “Look, I know I’ve been kind of…weird, and I’m sorry for, like, doing things to you and then leaving you hanging; really, I’m sorry. It’s just what I’m used to doing. That’s how I flirt, or show I’m interested, or something along those lines. I’m a little bitch; I know. But…yeah. I’m just…not great at relationships, I guess.” He shrugs again, that shy, modest look back on his face. “But I do want something more serious between you and me. If…if that’s okay with you.”  
  
I smile reassuringly at him. “That’s what I want, too.” Then I lean forward and close the distance, kissing him softly.  
  
He kisses me back, not rough and fast but slow and sweet, sighing as if a great weight has just been lifted off of his shoulders. I wrap my arm around his waist, automatically making sure that he’s warm and safe with me, and I can’t help but think that this is only the beginning of something big.


	9. Shameless

“So,” I say when we finally separate our lips. “Would you maybe want to come over to my place, hang out for a little bit?”  
  
Kellin smiles widely. “I’d love to.” He takes my hand. “I normally walk or hitch a ride from someone else, so I don’t have a car. You?”  
  
"I normally ride with my friends, but they might’ve left without me," I say, glancing over at the nearby parking lot. Surprisingly, Tony’s car is still parked there. "Or not," I add, nodding toward it. "Would you be okay riding with them?"  
  
"Yeah, sure," Kellin says. "They don’t seem too bad."  
  
With that, I lead Kellin over to the car, opening up the backseat. “Hey,” I say, hopping in next to Mike in the middle seat and motioning for Kellin to climb in with me. “Kellin’s coming over to my house. Can he ride with us?”  
  
"Uh, yeah, sure," Tony says. He points at the empty passenger seat. "Jaime had to go do something, but he said to wait for him because it’d be pretty quick."  
  
Kellin raises an eyebrow at that, then shrugs and closes the door behind him.  
  
As if on cue, the passenger side door opens, and Jaime hops in. “Hey,” he says. “I’m here. Sorry about that.”  
  
"It’s fine," Tony replies, starting the car and pulling out of the parking space. "Vic brought his stripper boyfriend with him."  
  
Jaime glances over his shoulder. “Oh, hey, Kellin!” he says, flashing Kellin a friendly smile. “Crash any birthday parties lately?”  
  
Kellin glances at me with a playful smirk. “Funny you should mention that, actually…”  
  
The guys start laughing. “Hey, wait,” I say. “Tony, he’s not my boyfriend.” I turn to Kellin. “Or are you?”  
  
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess it was kind of implied? Like, just now, and then you asking me to come over…” He laces his fingers with mine, his cheeks turning red.  
  
"Ew," Mike complains. "Get a room."  
  
"Just don’t look," I reply. Mike rolls his eyes and sighs. I’m not sure if the exasperation is real or fake.  
  
The ride home is pretty uneventful, with Jaime and Mike doing most of the talking, as usual. Kellin seems a bit shy around my friends, though he cracks a joke or makes a comment every now and then, and he’s pretty comfortable with me. But for the most part, he just holds my hand and absentmindedly plays with my fingers like a young child, occasionally sending a smile my way that I think might be meant just for me and nobody else.  
  
Tony stops at my house first. Mike, Kellin, and I hop out of the car and head up to the front door. When we’re all inside, Mike turns to me.  
  
"Vic," he says. "Can I talk to you for, like, two minutes?" He glances at Kellin. "Sorry to steal him from you. Family problem."  
  
"Oh, no, it’s fine," Kellin says, sounding completely sincere.  
  
"Okay, cool. Uh, make yourself at home." Without another word, Mike pulls me into the dining room.  
  
"Did something happen with Mom?" I ask, stupidly. Deep down, I know what this is really about.  
  
Mike shakes his head. “I just—you’re not doing this to spite me or something, are you? I’ve been warning you not to get too close to him, and now I hear that you’re dating him? I mean, if that’s the case, then I kind of want to give him a chance, but at the same time I kind of don’t.”  
  
"I don’t really know if we’re dating or not," I say calmly, "but I think you’re gonna have to give him a chance. Please. There’s…something about him. He said he wants something more serious with me, something more than just sex, and I think—I  _hope_ —he was telling the truth about that.”  
  
Mike just stares at me for a few moments, contemplating. Finally, he seems to visibly relax. Slightly. “Okay. We’ll see what happens.”  
  
I nod, smiling a little. “Thanks.”  
  
We both walk back out into the living room area, where Kellin is sitting on the couch, looking like he’s not quite sure what to do with himself. I sit down next to him, taking his hand and giving him a reassuring smile.  
  
"Okay, well, I’ll be in my room if you need me," Mike announces, making his way to the stairs. "I have a bad feeling that as soon as I leave, you two’ll start doing something X-rated. My only request is that you keep it down a little so I don’t have to hear it." With that, he heads upstairs, a now faintly amused look on his face.  
  
Kellin grins. “Smart kid,” he comments, kissing me on the cheek. Now that my brother is gone, he seems to come out of his shell.  
  
"Why do you do that, anyways?" I ask bluntly. "Like, one minute you’re more quiet and shy, but then…" I trail off, suddenly realizing how rude this is.  
  
Kellin doesn’t act like he cares, though. “It’s just instinct, mostly,” he says. “I mean, I know they’re your friends, but they’re still kids from school, and I don’t know them that well, so I just kind of tried not to draw too much attention to myself. I’m good now, though.” He kisses me again, this time on the lips. “Because I’m with you.”  
  
I can’t stop myself from smiling at his words. “I must be pretty special, then.”  
  
He nods, smiling back at me. “You’re very special.”  
  
Somewhere along the way, we end up passing the time by just sitting on the couch and talking to each other about different topics. This is how I learn things such as that he has an older sister named Kailey who’s in college, he likes to sing, he prefers cats over dogs, and his favorite color is red. These things are completely random and seemingly irrelevant, but I like knowing them. It makes me feel like there’s more to him than just what he puts out. It makes me feel like I really am special.  
  
Kellin can’t seem to keep his hands off of me, though. Sometimes he’s just holding my hand, but at other times, he’ll be touching my thigh or leaning against me, even resting his head on my shoulder at one point. I’m not sure if this is just an innocent show of affection or if he’s trying to drop a hint of some sort. If that’s the case, then you’d think that he might be a little more forward, but I can never make an assumption when it comes to Kellin. I’m just not sure what to make of it—is this how he usually is with people he’s interested in, people he’d call his boyfriends?  
  
"Vic," he says, out of the blue, "can you explain something to me?"  
  
I raise an eyebrow. “Uh, sure. What is it?”  
  
Kellin shifts closer to me so that our legs our touching. Then he rests a hand on the side of my face as I turn toward him. “Can you explain to me,” he says, his voice shifting to something a bit breathier, “how you got so goddamn hot?”  
  
I’ll admit—that’s not something I’ve been called in a while. “I think you’ve got the wrong person,” I say, letting my own voice drop a little bit.  
  
"Oh, no, I’ve definitely got the right person," he replies smoothly, resting his free hand on my thigh. "Never been more sure of anything in my life."  
  
Okay, now he’s being a bit more forward.  
  
Before I can think of a reply, he leans toward me and presses his lips to mine, soft at first but gradually speeding up. I kiss him back, resting my hands on his hips and letting him run his fingers through my hair. As his tongue glides across mine, he slowly climbs onto my lap and wraps his legs around my waist, never once disconnecting our lips. For a few moments, his body is stationary as I tilt my head up to kiss him and hold onto his hips a little tighter. Then he starts to move himself against me, slipping his hands underneath my shirt.  
  
"I think you’re wearing too many clothes," he whispers against my lips.  
  
Of course, it’s at that moment that I suddenly become aware of what’s happening. There’s a red flag going up in my head, a voice screaming,  _Too far!_  
  
"Uh, n-no I’m not," I stutter, because of my lack of breath.  
  
"Yes, you are," Kellin insists, moving his lips to my neck and gently nipping at it.  
  
"No, Kellin," I say. "I think this is a perfectly reasonable amount of clothing." This doesn’t seem to deter him, so I decide to be blunt. "Kellin, stop."  
  
Kellin does pull away then, still sitting on top of me. “What?”  
  
I can’t help but remember something he said earlier today, after the encounter with the two guys:  _I want to decide when someone’s allowed to touch me._  “Well, that’s kinda hypocritical,” I mutter. I don’t really intend for him to hear it, but with him being so close to me, of course he does.  
  
He frowns, climbing off and sitting down next to me. “What’s hypocritical?”  
  
"What you just did," I say. "You said earlier that you don’t like it when people get too close to you or touch you when you don’t want them to. And I didn’t want you to go that far, and I told you that, and you kept going." As I say it, I can’t help but feel like a major asshole, but I’m not going to lie—I didn’t like it when he kept going even though he clearly heard me and knew what I was saying.  
  
"Well, you didn’t push me away at first," he says. "Thought that was my cue to keep going."  
  
I just shake my head. “Is this always how it ends up? With sex on the first date?”  
  
"There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?" he snaps. "And technically this is our second, if you count last night."  
  
"Yeah, well, last night wasn’t any more innocent. I just…thought you said you wanted something more serious between us."  
  
"That doesn’t mean there’s no sex."  
  
"It means it’s not  _just_  sex,” I say, trying to hold back my irritation. “Call me a cockblock or a prude or whatever, I don’t care. But I’m not ready to go that far, and it’s not because I’m a virgin, because I’m not. It might not mean much to you, but it does to me. I want to have sex with someone I’ve been with for a while. Someone that I know for certain I can trust.” I immediately regret saying that last part, because there’s a pretty good chance he’ll take it the wrong way. And he does.  
  
"What? Why can’t you trust me?" he says, standing up. Now he’s definitely upset.  
  
"No, that’s not what I—"  
  
"Is it because of my job? Or because I’m just known for fucking a lot of people? Newsflash, Vic: Maybe I’m a filthy slut, but I don’t cheat. What do I have to do to prove myself to you? To everyone?"  
  
With that, he spins around and storms away. I stand up and follow him, calling his name, but he just leaves, slamming the front door behind him. I want to point out that he doesn’t have a ride home, but judging by the way he heads down the street, I guess he doesn’t really care.  
  
I sigh and sit back down on the couch, feeling frustrated both at him and myself. I can’t help but wonder how this is going to work—his values are so different from mine. I don’t know how we’ll be able to even get along if we’ve already got things like this happening.  
  
God. Sex, sex, sex. That’s always the problem, isn’t it?  
  
—  
  
 _Hey so my friend brought me to this one place and well…I think u need to see this to believe it. Meet me at the Black Mamba strip club ASAP. I’m at the bar._  
  
I get the text from Tony a few hours later, right as I’m finishing up my homework. Quickly, I send a message back to him:  
  
 _Be right there._  
  
When I head downstairs, I find Mike already at the front door. “Did you get a text from Tony about a place called Black Mamba?” he asks.  
  
"Yep," I say. "Let’s go."  
  
Neither of us say anything on the drive into the city, but I know we’re both wondering what the hell Tony thinks is so urgent that we need to see it for ourselves. At first, I thought it might have something to do with Kellin, but since he brought Mike into it, maybe that’s not the case.  
  
When we get to the club, the first thing I notice is that it’s quite a bit different from Lester’s. They’re both strip clubs, but this one is a lot shittier and a lot dirtier. I can tell just by looking at it that it’s not run as well; just about anything could happen at this place.  
  
"At the bar," Mike says over the loud music. "He said he’d be at the bar."  
  
So we head over to the bar, where a few other people are already sitting, mostly older-looking men with beer guts. One glance at the bartender tells me that he probably won’t be as friendly as Frank was.  
  
Tony’s sitting near the end, in between two empty stools. He’s turned around so that his back is to the bar, and when he sees us, he waves us over. Mike sits on his left side, and I sit on his right.  
  
"Hey," Tony says. "The friend that brought me here is getting a lap dance or something from one of the guys here, so I’ve just kinda been sitting here."  
  
"Um, okay," I say. "So, what was so important that you had to call us down here?"  
  
"Well, um…" He points out at the groups of tables and chairs near one of the stages, where people are sitting, drinking, talking, and getting down and dirty with some of the strippers here. I scan the area, trying to find whatever caught his attention, when I notice a very familiar guy giving someone a particularly dirty-looking lap dance near one corner.  
  
“ _Jaime_?”  
  
Mike and I say it in unison, exchanging glances incredulously. I can hardly believe my eyes.  
  
"Shit, dude," Mike says to Tony. "Have you just been sitting here and watching him the whole time? Have you gone up and actually, like, talked to him about this yet?"  
  
"He’s been pretty busy, with…y’know, stuff," Tony replies. "I don’t think they like being interrupted when they’re doing their job. Plus, what am I supposed to say? He probably doesn’t even want us to know about this. Why do you think he’s never mentioned it before?"  
  
"Maybe we’ve just never brought it up," I say. It’s a stupid statement, really, and a false one, too.  
  
"Uh, I’m pretty sure our recent discussions about Kellin’s tendency to get naked counts as  _bringing it up_ ,” Mike points out. Case proven.  
  
Tony snorts. “Yeah, exactly.” Then he sighs. “I don’t even know why I told you guys to come here. I guess I figured you might not believe me unless you saw it for yourselves. But are we gonna go up to him and talk to him about it? Are we gonna wait here and hope he talks to us first, which probably won’t happen because I think he’s been trying to keep this a secret from us?”  
  
"Well, while we’re here, we might as well make the most of it," Mike says, turning around to face the bar. "So you know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna drink."  
  
I just stare at him, thinking of what happened last night. “Mike, no.”  
  
"You can’t stop me," he says simply, before calling the bartender over and asking for a drink. We all have fake IDs that we got within the past year, but I hardly ever use mine for alcohol. I don’t even really need one anymore, really, if I don’t drink—I’m eighteen now. I can get into most of the clubs with my real ID.  
  
"I’ll handle him," Tony tells me, gesturing to Mike. "Also, Kellin came in a few minutes ago. I don’t know where he is now, but yeah. He seemed a little…I don’t know. Weird."  
  
I just nod. “I…okay. Thanks.”  
  
I glance back over to where Jaime and his client were, but neither of them are there anymore. They must’ve gone somewhere else—don’t they have private rooms in these places or something like that? I guess it’s like when Kellin performed for me.  
  
"I’m gonna go see if I can find him," I say, standing up from the barstool. Then, without another word, I head off through the club (albeit somewhat awkwardly).  
  
It’s more difficult than I expect, especially with the surprising amount of people here. I don’t know whether to check on the stage or the floor, and even after deciding to just look everywhere, there’s still the possibility that I’m missing him because he’s in one of those private rooms. I even get hit on a few times during my search. I’m definitely not as comfortable here as I was at Lester’s, and it’s not just because this time I’m actually venturing farther into the depths of the club. This place gives off a rough vibe, one that implies that the people here would let you get away with anything. My protective side is kicking in—I don’t like thinking that something bad could happen to Kellin or Jaime while they’re doing their jobs.  
  
It’s strange—I should be pissed at Kellin, not worrying about him. Maybe I still am a bit pissed, but that’s not my main concern right now. Right now I just want to see him, to make sure that he’s okay.  
  
I really need to learn how to tone down this protectiveness a little.  
  
After what feels like hours, I find him in one of the areas with tables and chairs. He must’ve just finished with someone, because now he’s just walking around, sticking some dollar bills in his briefs the same way he would if it were the strap on a pair of panties. That’s when someone from one of the nearby tables calls out, “Oh, hey, it’s the slut in action! Guess I should’ve known I’d find you at this shithole!”  
  
Kellin’s head snaps up, and I can feel my hands clenching into fists once again. I know that annoying, teasing voice. It’s the voice of one of the nameless guys who have been harassing Kellin at school.  
  
I take a few steps forward, if only to see how he’s going to handle this. I might have to step in and stop things before they get too bad.  
  
"Yeah, of course you’d find me here," Kellin replies, turning and looking the guy straight in the face, something he’s never done in school. "Because I’m doing my job. I’m earning  _money_. What’s your excuse, huh? Are you so desperate to get some that you’re willing to pay for it? Also, you’re at a  _gay_ strip club, so don’t try to make some homophobic comment.”  
  
The guy glares at him, though I can tell he’s surprised that he actually got a response. “I came in to get a couple drinks,” he says. “That’s it. Like I’d ever want to touch one of you slutty fags.”  
  
"Like we’d ever let you," Kellin shoots back, rolling his eyes, a faint smirk on his lips. "Please. Don’t flatter yourself, fuckwad. Personally, I’d rather have sex with Katy Perry—and I’m gay. Don’t make fun of me, either. I mean, which one of us is getting paid for being sexy? It’s definitely not you."  
  
Damn. Sassy Kellin is  _hot_.  
  
"Now, if you’ll excuse me," he adds, walking away from the guy, "I’ve got work to do."  
  
The guy’s mouth is open as Kellin leaves him in the dust. A few people even start clapping.  
  
Bravo, Kellin. Bravo.


	10. Prove Myself to You

I don’t get a chance to talk to Kellin, because not long after that whole confrontation, Tony comes up to me and tells me that leaving soon might be a good idea. “We’ve agreed not to bother Jaime, since he probably doesn’t want us to know about this,” he explains, “and plus, Mike’s getting pretty drunk, and nothing I say or do is having an effect on him.”  
  
"I’ll talk to him," I say, taking one last glance around. "I’ll make sure he comes with us."  
  
With that, Tony and I head back to the bar, where Mike is taking a shot. He definitely looks at least somewhat drunk, and I try not to show just how much that kills me.  
  
"Mike," I say, sitting down next to him. "We’re leaving now."  
  
"I’ll catch up to you guys," he says, waving his hand in a vague sort of gesture. "Go."  
  
"No." I grab his wrist and pin it down to the bar. Tony’s not normally one to get assertive like this, but Mike is my brother. I know him. And I know that sometimes, this is what I have to do.  
  
Mike scowls. “Dude, what?”  
  
"You’re coming home. Now."  
  
He rolls his eyes and nods at where I’ve pinned his wrist down. “I’ve got two hands, you know.” He raises his shot glass with his free hand and waves at the bartender. “Hey, can I get another—”  
  
"No," I interrupt, grabbing the glass out of his hand. "Mike, I’m not letting you do this again."  
  
"If you let me get drunk off my ass, I’ll let you fuck your little whore anytime you want to," he says, flashing me a lopsided smirk.  
  
"You said you’d give him a chance anyways," I reply. "I’m not bargaining with you." I stand and pull him up with me, setting the glass down on the bar. "We’re leaving."  
  
"I’m not," Mike argues. "You can’t tell me what to do. Who do you think you are, my mom?"  
  
Those words seem to break him out of his trance, at least a little bit. For a moment, both of us just stare at each other. Then I say, “Mom’s not being much of a mom anymore, so now it’s my job. So, yes, I can tell you what to do. And I’m telling you to come with me and Tony before you drink yourself to death.”  
  
Mike looks like he’s about to protest some more, but then he just sighs and shakes his head. “This is so fucked up,” he says, and suddenly he’s all slurred words and bloodshot eyes, and I actually feel kind of sorry for him.  
  
"I know," I say. "Let’s go."  
  
—  
  
"Thinking about Vic again, Kell?"  
  
I try not to react when I overhear Oli mention my name. I take a quick glance over my shoulder as I’m walking down the hall, which is when I see him with Kellin, both of them leaning up against the wall. I slow down a little, hiding myself in the crowds of students and telling myself that it’s not bad to eavesdrop if you’re eavesdropping on a conversation that involves you.  
  
Kellin simply gives a noncommittal shrug, looking down at the floor. “Maybe.”  
  
"Why?" Oli asks, scowling a little. "You said you two argued ‘cause he wouldn’t fuck you. He’s obviously not your type. I’m sorry to say, but it might be a good idea to stop seeing him."  
  
"We didn’t argue because he wouldn’t fuck me," Kellin protests, and it surprises me a little, because he normally doesn’t talk this much to anyone during school. "We argued because he didn’t like what I was doing. He thought I was going too fast."  
  
Oli snorts. “Yeah, whatever. You’re just trying to sugarcoat it. It’s the same thing.”  
  
"Well, you make him sound like a terrible person, and he’s really not."  
  
"Are you telling me that, for once, you actually give a shit about whether or not the guy you’re trying to have sex with is a terrible person?"  
  
Kellin straightens up a bit. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he snaps indignantly, probably louder than he intended, judging by the few strange looks now being sent his way. He returns to his original position up against the wall and attempts to shrink back in on himself, as if he’s trying to make himself smaller and less visible.  
  
Oli shrugs, seeming not at all fazed by Kellin’s little outburst. “Just that normally, when you’ve got your sights set on a guy, you really don’t care how shitty his personality is as long as he’s got a hot body. That’s always been pretty much the only thing you care about.”  
  
"Well, Vic’s different," Kellin replies, quieter now. He’s back to staring at the floor, as if trying to signal that he wants the conversation to be over.  
  
Oli just shakes his head in disbelief, but he seems to get the point. “Whatever.” With that, he walks off, leaving Kellin to sigh, run his fingers through his messy hair, and pull the hood of his sweatshirt over his head.  
  
Throughout the day, I rehearse lines in my head about what I want to say to Kellin after school. I want to apologize to him for what happened yesterday, but I also want to make sure that he knows my boundaries. I don’t think I want to break up with him, though (I still can’t believe we’re actually dating in the first place).  
  
I normally don’t see Kellin around much during school, but in those fleeting moments that I do see him today, I notice that Oli always seems to be around him. He might not necessarily be right behind him or beside him or anything, but he’s always close by, and he always seems to have his eyes on Kellin. It’s weird, and I’m not sure what to make of it. Is it territorial, possessive, overprotective? Is it jealousy? Is it the same thing he showed the other night at Matt’s house? And if so, then why?  
  
At dismissal, I can’t help but wait around at what’s become sort of our usual spot outside. (Seriously, why do all these confrontations happen outside? Why can’t they happen  _inside_ , where there’s, y’know, actual _heating_?)  
  
Before I can think about anything too much, Kellin appears around the corner. “Vic,” he says, his facial expression serious. “I, uh, I wanted to talk to you.”  
  
I nod slowly, trying to remember what I wanted to say. “Um, okay.”  
  
He sighs, pulling at his hair and glancing down at the ground before looking back up at me. “I’m sorry,” he says bluntly, seeming completely genuine as he meets my eyes. “For yesterday. And don’t be one of those people who tells me it’s not my fault just to make me feel less guilty or something, because I know it was all me. Okay? I realize that. It was totally uncalled for, and I shouldn’t have kept going like I did, and I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.” He glances away again, voice a bit softer. “I just…got a bit carried away, I guess. I do that a lot.”  
  
"It’s okay," I say.  
  
"No, it isn’t, really," he replies, shaking his head. "You were right. It was completely hypocritical, and I totally understand if you want to just kick me right out of your life by now, because I’ve been a huge bitch and I—"  
  
"No, no, it’s fine," I interrupt, taking his hand and tilting his head back up so that his eyes lock with mine. "I mean, maybe you’ve got a point, and maybe you’ve done some things that aren’t that great, but I’m still holding on to what you said. We both want something serious. We just have to compromise a little bit, y’know? Maybe it’s dumb, but despite everything, I really fucking like you."  
  
Kellin’s eyes light up, and that’s when I know I’ve made the right decision. Despite everything, I can’t ignore the way he looks at me, the way he opens up to me—Frank even said that he must really like me, judging by how comfortable he is around me. He squeezes my hand, holding it a little bit tighter, but he doesn’t make any move beyond that, and his gaze is suddenly innocent and sweet. “I want to prove myself to you,” he says quietly.  
  
"You don’t have to prove anything."  
  
"But I want to," he insists. "I want to prove that I’m more than every mistake I’ve made. I want to prove that you can trust me."  
  
—  
  
It’s Saturday evening when Kellin calls me (we finally got around to giving each other our numbers). He asks if he can come over, and I tell him he can. Not long after that, there’s a knocking at the door, and I run downstairs to find him standing on my front porch, his face red and a gray beanie on his head. “It’s kinda cold,” he states, giggling a little as he attempts to hide just how obviously cold he is. “Hi.”  
  
"Hey," I say, smiling and gesturing for him to come inside, and he breathes a sigh of relief when he walks in the door and quickly closes it behind him. "So, what brings you here tonight?"  
  
He shrugs, biting his lip. “Long story short, I wasn’t feeling very welcome in my own house. Didn’t even get to eat dinner or anything.”  
  
I nod. “Parents yelling at you or something?” I guess.  
  
"Not really at me; mostly just at each other. But it was clear they didn’t really want me around, and I’m not working tonight, so I figured I’d come pay you a visit." He looks me up and down, grinning knowingly. "Can I safely assume you mostly just hung out here all day?"  
  
I can feel my face heat up a little. I’m wearing nothing but an old t-shirt and sweatpants, and my hair is probably a mess. Somehow, it didn’t even occur to me to make myself look at least somewhat presentable when Kellin asked if he could come over.  
  
"I, um…yeah," I say. "I guess I just thought…I don’t know what I thought. I was reading a really good book when you called. I was distracted."  
  
Kellin just stares at me, but it’s a stare full of affection. “Oh my God. You’re such a dork.” He smiles and raises his eyebrows. “Must’ve been a pretty addicting book, then.”  
  
"Oh, it was," I agree, deciding to play along with whatever he’s saying.  
  
"I bet I can be even more addicting," he teases, smirking and taking a step closer to me. Now there’s a question in his eyes, as if he’s asking me whether or not this is okay.  
  
But he knows my limits now, and I know that he’s just playing. So I simply return the smirk and say, “Oh, really?”  
  
"Really." And then he kisses me. It’s fast, all tongues and hands as I push him up against the wall.  
  
"You know, I can hear every word you’re saying!" calls a voice belonging to my brother—I forgot he was sitting out in the living room. "You two are making some  _really disgusting noises_! Can you please stop sucking each other’s faces off?”  
  
I pull away and take a step back, laughing. “Shut up, Mike!” I reply, giving him the middle finger, even though I don’t think he can see it from the angle he’s sitting at.  
  
"We are  _not_  sucking each other’s faces off!” Kellin adds.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Mike says.  
  
"How can you even hear us?" I ask. "You’ve got the TV on."  
  
"You guys were just  _that_  loud. Kellin, I don’t even know what you see in Vic, especially today. The dude didn’t even brush his hair. And he probably didn’t shower, either.”  
  
"Shut up, Mike!" I repeat. "I showered! Don’t you have something you should be doing right now?"  
  
Kellin covers his face with his hand, but it doesn’t hide his laughter. “This is so amusing,” he says. “I like this house much better. I think I’m gonna live here from now on. Don’t worry, I can help pay for rent.” He winks.  
  
"Hey, speaking of paying for stuff, do you want some dinner?" I say suddenly. "We could go out somewhere."  
  
"Uh, we can," Kellin says, shrugging. "But, really, it’s fine; I don’t have to eat anythi—"  
  
"We’re going out somewhere," I decide, making my way to the stairs. "Hold on. Let me make myself look decent, and then we’ll be off."  
  
Before he can protest, I’ve bolted up to my room, throwing my shirt off and desperately digging through the closet in search of an acceptable outfit. Normally I wouldn’t really care, and Kellin probably doesn’t give a shit what I wear, but I still end up spending way too long figuring it out and making sure my hair doesn’t look like a family of rats lives in it.  
  
When I get back downstairs, Mike and Kellin are arguing over which pizza place is better, and I can’t help but smile at the sight—it looks like Kellin is definitely warming up to Mike, and Mike seems to really be giving Kellin a chance.  
  
"Okay, I’m ready," I say, leaning against the wall and jingling the car keys.  
  
"Three hundred years later," Mike teases. "Aw, look, you’re both wearing beanies."  
  
"Well, it’s cold," I say. "Plus, we can actually pull them off. Can you? No."  
  
"I can totally pull off a beanie," Mike argues. "But whatever. Go on, you stupid kids." He waves his hand.  
  
Kellin simply grins and hops over to me, taking my hand and letting me lead him outside, into the cool night air. “So, where to?” he asks once we’re in the car.  
  
"Uh," I say. "I don’t know. Somewhere."  
  
We end up in a local restaurant that’s not exactly fancy, but not fast food, either. Once the waiter takes our orders, Kellin says, “I can pay for this, if you want.”  
  
"Absolutely not," I reply. "This was my idea. I’m taking you out. I’ll pay."  
  
He brushes some hair out of his face. “Are you sure?”  
  
I flash him a smile. “Of course.”  
  
"I feel like I have to give you  _something_ ,” he says, absentmindedly playing with the fingers of my left hand where it rests on the table of the booth we’re sitting at.  
  
"You don’t," I assure him. "I’m treating you."  
  
"I’m not used to that," he says quietly, avoiding my gaze as his cheeks turn a slight shade of pink. "And normally I like it that way. I like being able to control what I’m giving instead of having someone else control what I’m getting. But I’m also mostly a submissive person," he adds, "so that gets kinda complicated sometimes." He shrugs. "I don’t know what I’m saying. Don’t mind me."  
  
"No, it’s okay," I tell him honestly, genuinely interested in what he’s saying. "Talk all you want."  
  
He nods slowly. “It’s just…I like being in control, but not necessarily controlling. Like, even if I’m not being all dominating and controlling, I know that I still have the power to alter or change the things I don’t like.” He gives me a small smile. “Basically, I’m trying to say that I’m not used to people wanting to please me instead of the other way around, because pretty much all I do is please people…but I like it when you do this stuff. It makes me feel…I don’t know…special, I guess.”  
  
"Well, that’s good, because you’re pretty damn special," I say, resisting the urge to kiss him right here, right now, in front of everyone.  
  
"I’m not that special," he says, the sudden modesty overtaking him. "I’m just some gay stripper dude."  
  
"You’re more than that, though," I argue, actually feeling a bit angry now, but not at him. I’m angry at everyone who’s drilled it into his head that this job defines him. "You weren’t always a stripper. You weren’t always what people say you are."  
  
"I don’t remember who I was before this," he admits, staring at me with eyes that now seem to hold insecurity and even some sadness. "Before my job was my main priority, my big secret, my defining feature, my everything. It’s fucked, but I’m not giving it all up, so I’ve just gotta deal with it. And sometimes I really do like my job, but other times I really miss whoever the hell I used to be. I miss knowing who I am and who I want to be." After a short pause, he laughs a little in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Wow, what a great topic for casual dinner conversation."  
  
I laugh, too, but it’s mostly to cover up how much I want to fix everything. “Yeah, really.”  
  
"So," he says, cracking a smile and changing the subject. "Why don’t you tell me about that addicting book you were reading?"  
  
With that, our conversation shifts to something lighter. Somewhere along the way, Kellin makes an absolutely terrible pun, and I laugh, a loud and real one that I try to never use. But Kellin just looks at me as if it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. “Oh my God, is that your  _laugh_? You should do that more often, holy shit.”  
  
The restaurant I took Kellin out to is in the city, so when we get back out there, we have to walk down the sidewalk for a little bit to get back to the car. But I kind of want to just walk around for a short while, and I think Kellin does, too.  
  
We don’t really get a chance to discuss it, though, because as we’re about to walk past an alleyway, a voice protests, “Get your hands off me!”  
  
A fairly large guy is pushing a dark-haired girl with a nose ring up against the nearby wall, his hands beginning to roam up and down her body even as she tries to break free from his grip.  
  
Kellin and I exchange glances, and I can’t help but notice the glint in his eyes. Then, before I can react, he sprints over and punches the guy right in the face.


	11. I Could Get Used to This

“She said to get your filthy hands off of her.”  
  
Kellin’s voice is harsh and angry, and the girl’s attacker takes a step back. His nose is bleeding from the punch, and he looks slightly disoriented. “Fuck off, man,” he says. “Just trying to have a little fun. The bitch probably liked it.” He doesn’t try to go after her again, though; he’s probably realized that it’d be too difficult with a pissed-off Kellin standing in front of her.  
  
"Get out of here," Kellin snaps. "Now."  
  
The guy rolls his eyes. “You don’t scare me. She’s just not worth all this shit.” With that, he storms away, down the alley. I don’t think any of us relax until he has completely rounded the corner.  
  
"Thanks," the girl says, sighing and folding her arms across her chest as she leans against the wall. "I was trying to fight him off, but he just…" She shrugs. "Yeah. Thank you."  
  
"No problem," Kellin replies, still looking fairly pissed.  
  
"Why’d you do that, anyways?" she asks.  
  
"Because I know what that’s like," Kellin says. "Believe me. I know."  
  
I take a step closer and wrap my arm protectively around his waist. I have to say—I really respect him for what he just did, sticking up for this girl. It makes me think that our values might not be so different after all. Sure, he likes a lot of sex, but it’s always consensual. The things he said earlier, about wanting to be in control, just prove it even more. Considering all the harassment he most likely deals with on a weekly basis, of course he’d defend someone held against their will.  
  
"I’m Kellin, by the way," he adds, snapping me out of my thoughts. He gestures to me. "And this is Vic, my…boyfriend-type-thing."  
  
The girl laughs a little. “‘Type-thing.’ I’m guessing it’s a bit complicated. Hi. I’m Tay.” I give her brownie points for not mentioning the fact that we’re boyfriends.  
  
"Hi," Kellin says, suddenly a bit more shy now that the initial situation has passed.  
  
"So, what are you guys up to?" Tay says, thankfully keeping the conversation going.  
  
"I took Kellin on a date because his parents were being dumb," I state plainly, and Kellin laughs at my choice of words.  
  
"Parents do have a tendency to be dumb," Tay agrees. "I was just about to go into that bar and drink a little bit." She points at a bar down the street, near where I parked the car. "Or maybe I’ll go into a different one. Do you guys know of any gay bars? And if so, do they happen to include gay women, or are they exclusively male?"  
  
"I know a couple," Kellin says, "but they’re both strip clubs." He winks at me. "Plus, they’re mainly for dudes. Though my friend Gerard does make a pretty good woman. I do, too, actually."  
  
"Who says?" I tease.  
  
"I do," Kellin replies. "Plus, lots of other people. And if you don’t think I do, I can give you a repeat of your little birthday present to maybe change your mind." He raises his eyebrows suggestively.  
  
Tay laughs. “Do I even want to know what’s going on in this conversation?”  
  
"No," I say, grinning, at the same time that Kellin says, "Abso-fucking-lutely."  
  
"Well," Tay says, "are we going to keep standing out here in the cold, or are we gonna go inside the unfortunately-not-gay bar?"  
  
"Assuming that we’re coming with you," Kellin says, rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling. "Which I think we are, because why the hell not? It’s a Saturday night, I’m off work, and my boyfriend-type-thing is even more attractive-looking than usual." He glances at me for confirmation, his eyes shining.  
  
"Shut up, you liar," I say, again resisting the urge to kiss him. "And, yes, we’re coming with you. But I’m driving us home, so I’ll stay sober."  
  
With that, the three of us head over to the bar, which is fairly busy, especially since it’s Saturday night. Luckily, though, we manage to find three empty barstools next to each other, and Kellin sits in the middle, me on his left side and Tay on his right.  
  
"So," Tay says, sipping at the drink she’s just ordered, "how did you two meet?"  
  
Kellin and I exchange glances, both of us with small, knowing smiles on our faces. “Uh, through school,” Kellin says. “But we sort of, uh, pined after each other from far away until just recently. Vic’s brother invited me to Vic’s birthday party, and things got a bit…um…”  
  
"Oh, I get it," Tay says, breaking into a smile.  
  
Kellin shakes his head. “Nah, you don’t know the whole story. Can you keep a secret?”  
  
"Of course," Tay says, and I find myself trusting her. I like this girl.  
  
Kellin turns to me, silently asking for permission to talk about what happened that night. I simply shrug and nod encouragingly, as if to say, _Hey, it’s your secret, not mine._  
  
"Uh…I’m kind of a stripper," Kellin says to Tay. "And Vic’s brother hired me to, well, strip for him. And then this kinda sorta happened." He laces his fingers with mine.  
  
Tay looks a bit surprised for a few moments, but then she just smiles. “Well, that explains how you knew about the gay strip clubs.”  
  
The night continues in a similar fashion, with Kellin and Tay getting a little bit drunk, but not fully wasted—I can still hold a fairly intelligent conversation with them, and they both seem pretty aware of the things around them. Mostly, they’re just enjoying the alcohol as a drink, not with the intention of getting shitfaced. Tay explains that she rode the bus here, so she doesn’t need to worry about driving anyways.  
  
Finally, we all decide that it’d be a good idea to get back home. Tay gives us her number, telling us to keep in touch with her, because “I need more friends, and I definitely need more friends on Team Homo with me.” (Her words, not mine.) Then we’re going our separate ways, her to the bus stop and Kellin and I to the car.  
  
"This was so much more fun than hiding in my room while my parents fight World War III," Kellin proclaims on the drive back to my house. "I guess I should probably go back, but I don’t want to." He pouts.  
  
"Maybe I should just drop you off at your house," I say, but I don’t really want to do that, and he clearly doesn’t want me to, either.  
  
"Not yet. Can I stay at your place a little bit longer?"  
  
"Will you get in trouble for it?" I ask. I don’t want his parents to be mad at him.  
  
"My dad’ll probably yell at me, but he’s moving out in, like, less than a week, so it doesn’t really matter. And Mom doesn’t really care. She likes to give me some space." He sighs. "They’ll be arguing up until the moment Dad steps out of that goddamn house for good. Actually, he’ll probably call Mom to keep on arguing with her, even after he’s gone. Parents are so fun."  
  
Maybe Kellin’s even more sober than I thought he was.  
  
"What about your mom, though?" he continues. "Will she care if I stay?"  
  
"She won’t even notice," I assure him. "She doesn’t give a shit about much of anything anymore."  
  
"Not even you and Mike?"  
  
I shake my head. “No. Or maybe she does, but she doesn’t act like it. Sometimes I forget I even have a mom, because she’s never around.”  
  
Kellin just stares at me for a few moments before sighing and closing his eyes. “Parents are shit, dude.”  
  
"Let’s pretend they don’t exist," I suggest.  
  
His eyes are still closed, but his mouth spreads into a grin. “I like the way you think.”  
  
When we get back to my house, Mike is still downstairs, though now he’s passed out on the couch with a book open on his face; it’s as though he fell asleep while reading it, which means he probably did. Various papers are strewn around him, and there’s a notebook open on the coffee table. This is usually what happens whenever Mike tries to do homework.  
  
"Is he asleep?" Kellin says incredulously. "It’s not even that late."  
  
"No, but homework automatically makes him unbearably tired, it seems," I explain. "Plus, he was probably up really late last night, and now he’s making up for it." I take a step closer and curl my hands around my eyes like binoculars. "And here on your right, you’ll see the Michael Fuentes in its natural habitat. You may notice its unsanitary living space and its general lack of fucks to give."  
  
Kellin laughs. Then he glances at the stairs, biting his lip. “So, uh, are we staying down here or going upstairs?”  
  
"It’d probably be best for us to leave him alone," I say slowly, "so I guess upstairs it is."  
  
Unfortunately, the state of my room is much like the state of my appearance a few hours ago. I didn’t really think about it when I told Kellin he could come over, so when I lead him inside, we’re greeted by a floor covered in clothes, a desk with papers all over it, and an unmade bed, along with other miscellaneous shit thrown in random places. How did it even get this messy?  
  
"Uh, hold on," I say, my face heating up. "I promise I’m not this gross. Let me fix some stuff." With that, I rush around the room, tossing my clothes in the hamper, fixing my bed, and trying to rapidly organize the papers and other things.  
  
Kellin just watches me with what looks like a mixture of amusement and fondness. “Vic, it’s okay,” he says finally, laughing a little. “My room isn’t perfect, either. I get it.” He flops down on my bed, sprawling out and sighing. “I like this bed. It’s so big and comfy. Can I sleep here?”  
  
I don’t know whether or not he’s joking, but either way, I say, “Sure. Knock yourself out.”  
  
He pats the spot next to him. “Come over here. It’s okay if the desk isn’t organized.”  
  
So I lie down next to him, folding my arms behind my head and glancing at at him. He matches my position, flashing me an adorable smile. “I could get used to this,” he says.  
  
I nod in agreement, and with the way he looks at me, I just can’t help myself—I slide my body closer to his, turn on my side, and softly connect our lips.  
  
He smiles into the kiss, moving slow and sweet against me. Then he pulls me by my shirt and positions us so that I’m on top of him, my legs straddling his body and my hands firm against him. He uses one hand to keep on gripping my shirt; the other he tangles in my hair, pulling my beanie off, tossing it to the floor, and then doing the same with his own.  
  
I can’t help but grind myself against him, my hands slipping underneath his shirt and hungrily trying to touch every inch of bare skin. Kellin speeds up, too, playing with the fabric of my pullover hoodie. Reluctantly, we break off long enough to get both our sweatshirts over our heads and onto the ground before we reconnect our lips, one less layer between my skin and his.  
  
"Holy shit," Kellin breathes in between kisses. "What’s gotten into you?"  
  
I simply sigh into his mouth in response, holding him even tighter and kissing him even harder, our tongues sliding against each other. Kellin wraps his legs around my waist and thrusts his body up against mine, and I just grind right back down on him as I feel myself getting hard.  
  
Kellin pulls away slightly. “Let me…” He reaches up and rests one hand on my crotch, no doubt feeling the bulge in my too-tight jeans. “Let me give you a little treat—y’know, in return for the dinner.” He raises his eyebrows, both suggestive and questioning at the same time.  
  
"Okay," I say, deciding that two can play at this game. We both know I’m dominant here, so I’m going to fucking act like it. "Suck me. Now."  
  
Kellin’s eyes are surprised and excited as we switch positions, me lying down on my back and him situating himself between my legs. He pulls my pants down, followed by my boxers, and then he leans in and flicks his tongue against my hard shaft.  
  
"Suck me  _now_ ,” I repeat, threading my fingers in his hair and pulling at it impatiently. He grabs ahold of my hips and starts licking at the base, lazily making his way up. It sends little shocks of pleasure all over, and I arch my back up slightly, silently begging him to take more of me in.  
  
When he gets to my tip, he stops, kissing it lightly and making me shiver. I’m aching for his tongue, aching for  _him_ , and the little shit knows it.  
  
"Suck. Me." I say it for the third time, gripping his hair tighter and pushing myself against his lips. "That’s an order."  
  
Kellin makes a little noise at that, and then he complies and takes me into his mouth. I let out a quiet moan as he starts to move up and down, bobbing his head on my cock. He’s still slow at first, but gradually he speeds up, using one hand to stroke the half that his mouth can’t reach. I moan louder, bucking my hips up to match his pace, and then he moans a little, too—I can hear it, but I can also feel it in the vibrations of his throat. I gasp, my body starting to shake slightly. “ _Oh_ …”  
  
Kellin moves faster, and when I feel myself hit the back of his throat, I close my eyes and moan even louder. “Oh…my  _God_.”  
  
Kellin sighs, and then his free hand moves down to his crotch—he’s getting himself off to the sounds I make. Still he moves tirelessly, his tongue working its magic, and I thrust my hips up in time with him, feeling myself getting close. “Ah,  _ah_ …”  
  
He can tell, of course, and squeezes my length a little bit harder. I tighten my grip on his hair and throw my head back, groaning loudly, so close, and then he lets out a long groan of his own, and that’s what does it, all the vibrations and extra pressure. My body twitches as I come into his mouth, still moving my hips as he sucks up every last drop. “Oh m-my God,” I gasp, “Kellin…”  
  
For a few moments, I just lie there as I catch my breath. Then I say, “Lie down next to me, Kell.”  
  
Kellin pulls my boxers and pants up for me and then does as I say, lying down on his back. When I glance down, I confirm that, yes, he’s still hard, and he looks about ready to continue jerking himself off. There’s sweat glistening on his forehead, and his cheeks are pink.  
  
"I can fix that," I say, and before he can protest, I’ve pulled his pants and boxers down, wrapped my hand around his shaft, and started pumping quickly. He gasps, his eyelids fluttering, as I move my hand up and down, kissing his lips while I do it. He moans into my mouth, gripping my shirt and holding on tightly as he thrusts his hips. He’s all high-pitched whimpers and whines, and it just makes me go even faster.  
  
"Vic," he sighs, breaking off the kiss and burying his head into my shoulder. "I-I’m…"  
  
But he doesn’t have to say anything else, because then he comes all over my hand and his stomach, any words transforming into hot, breathy noises. I slow my hand down as he finishes, and then we’re both lying next to each other—sweaty, panting messes.  
  
I grab a few tissues from a little packet in the drawer of my nightstand. After we’ve cleaned ourselves off and disposed of the evidence in my trash can, Kellin and I lie back down next to each other in a comfortable silence, until Kellin says, “I wasn’t kidding about sleeping here, y’know.”  
  
I try to pretend this doesn’t make me happy. “And I wasn’t kidding about letting you,” I reply truthfully.  
  
At that, he breaks into a sleepy-looking smile. I really don’t want to leave this bed, and I can tell he doesn’t, either. “Can we sleep now?” he asks, rubbing his eyes. “I’m tired.”  
  
"It’s not even that late," I tease, repeating his words from earlier, about Mike.  
  
He nudges me playfully. “Shut up.”  
  
I just laugh and force myself up to my feet, turning the lights off and shutting the door before climbing in under the covers. Kellin’s smile widens as he joins me.  
  
"Oh my God," he whispers, closing his eyes and burying himself deeper into the blankets. "This is the best bed ever. Especially because you’re in it."  
  
"My bed says it loves you back," I say, and he giggles, shifting his body closer to me and resting his head against my chest. I wrap my arm around his waist and hold him to me, kissing his forehead. He’s so warm and comforting against me—I just want to stay this way forever.  
  
"I really do like you," he mumbles, his voice a bit muffled by the shirt fabric. "You’re so sweet and caring…and you’re not afraid to argue or hold your ground or stand up for yourself…and you treat me like an actual human being with feelings and thoughts…and you’re so protective…you always make me feel safe. Also, you smell really nice, and your lips are the softest, most kissable lips I have ever had the pleasure of kissing." He glances up at me, looking half-asleep. "Sorry, I’m rambling."  
  
"No, it’s fine," I say, lightly rubbing his back. His words are giving me a warm feeling in my chest. "God, I could really get used to this."  
  
"What, us cuddling?" He closes his eyes and smiles blissfully.  
  
"Us in general. Everything about it. You and me. I could get used to that."  
  
Kellin makes a little noise of content, and before I know it, he’s fallen asleep. My eyelids are getting heavy, too, and then we’re both out.  
  
—  
  
When I wake up, Kellin’s not there.  
  
For a moment, I can feel the disappointment weighing down on me—of course he’d suck my dick, tell me nice things, and then leave while I’m asleep. Then I notice the folded piece of paper resting on my nightstand, and I grab it.  
  
Near the top are a bunch of scribbles, as if the person who wrote on it was trying to get the pen to work. In the center is my name written in handwriting I don’t recognize. I’m already pretty sure that it’s Kellin’s, though.  
  
I unfold the paper, and this is what is written:  
  
 _I know what you’re probably thinking right now, but I promise I’d stay longer if I could. My dad called and said I had to come back home ASAP. He sounded really…well, not happy. I don’t want to push my luck.  
  
I would stay until you wake up, but you look really tired, so I’m gonna let you sleep in. Sorry for abandoning you :(  
  
I asked Mike, and he said he’d drive me home, so no worries there. He also says to tell you that he’s gonna make pancakes when he gets back and he’s not going to wait for you, so you better wake up soon.  
  
Hope you slept well. You’re very comfortable. Even more comfortable than your bed. See you around. xo  
  
-Kell  
  
P.S. I want to give you a promotion, if that’s okay with you. You’ve gone from a boyfriend-type-thing to a boyfriend. Tell me if you’re not cool with that, but if you are, then that’s great. I like the thought of us being official._  
  
I can’t help but smile at the sweetness of the little note, rereading the last few sentences over and over. So he didn’t just leave me hanging. Maybe he really  _does_  have to prove himself, then, if that’s what I automatically assumed.  
  
It’s official. The thought seems so crazy. I mean, we’ve kind of been official for a little while already, but it hasn’t really felt like it until now.  
  
When I go downstairs, sure enough, Mike is in the kitchen making pancakes. “Hey,” I say.  
  
He glances at me over his shoulder. “Kellin slept over last night, I see.”  
  
I raise an eyebrow, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Um, yeah.”  
  
For a while, he doesn’t respond. Then he finally says, “I think I like him. He’s a pretty cool dude in general.”  
  
I try not to smile (and fail). “Yeah,” I agree. “He is.”  
  
"But," he continues, "I’m not letting him completely off the hook. I’ll be watching for if he ever fucks you over."  
  
"Hey," I say, in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Who’s the older brother here?"  
  
He flips me off, laughing a little. “That doesn’t mean anything, you asshole. I’d still fuck him up for you.”  
  
"Things are pretty good right now, though," I say, thinking of everything that happened last night, thinking of the word boyfriend. "I don’t want to worry about the future."  
  
Mike spins around to look at me, completely ignoring the pancake that’s probably burning in the pan he’s holding. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” he says. “You?  _Not worrying_  about something? You’re  _always_  worrying about something.”  
  
I shrug. “Well…I don’t  _want_  to worry about things so much.”  
  
He shakes his head incredulously, flipping the pancake over. “I don’t know what Kellin’s doing to you, but if this is how he’s making you act, then I could definitely get used to having him around.”  
  
I smile, remembering what Kellin and I said to each other. Yes, I could definitely get used to this.


	12. Nothing's Wrong

The next week or so is surprisingly uneventful. The guys that were bullying Kellin don’t bother him as much anymore, settling instead for watching him from a distance and whispering to each other. Kellin says he thinks they’re afraid he’ll humiliate them in front of all their friends or something, like he did that night at the Black Mamba. He doesn’t know I was there when it happened, so I let him tell me the story.  
  
As it turns out, Tay is actually a senior at our school—she was new, moving in only a few months ago, which is why I didn’t recognize her. (“Brilliant idea, parents. I’m gonna graduate in half a year, and they enroll me in a new school.”) I do remember hearing about her briefly, though; I even remember Mike saying he thought she was pretty attractive. Sorry, Mike, but she bats for the other team.  
  
She doesn’t have many friends here, so she ends up sitting with me and the guys during lunch. Kellin does, too, which I think is pretty fucking amazing, considering the low profile he wants to maintain. People generally take notice when a supposed outcast starts hanging out with the more popular kids. He doesn’t really seem to care, though. “I’m done pretending I don’t know you while I’m here,” he says to me one day. “I’m your boyfriend. I want to hang out with you. Fuck what they think.”  
  
Okay, so maybe my heart still flutters a little at the word  _boyfriend_. But he’s admitted, in moments of sweetness, that he feels a similar way, so I guess we’re even.  
  
He’s acting a little strange, though. I can’t really put my finger on what it is, exactly, and it’s not too noticeable, but whatever it is, it’s there. He’s slightly more timid than usual, even when it’s just us. It’s like he’s always a tiny bit tense, a tiny bit on edge, a tiny bit distant, a tiny bit rushed, as if there are problems plaguing him that he can’t ever seem to completely let go of. I ask him what’s wrong several times, but he just tells me that it’s nothing or that he’s just tired from late nights performing. I point out that he’s not normally this tired, but he simply says that he’s had to work more this week. That’s not a lie, either, as far as I know—he’s had to turn me down or leave early almost every evening to go to either Lester’s or the Black Mamba, explaining that a few dancers have recently quit, so both clubs need more of them.  
  
"Most of us regularly work at both clubs," he explains the next Friday morning as we’re standing together at my locker. "Generally, strippers are independent—from what I’ve seen, anyways—so we don’t work for a specific club; we mainly just go wherever work is available. Like birthday parties." He smirks at that. "And there aren’t exactly a huge abundance of strictly gay clubs around here, so we don’t have much variety. I probably wouldn’t go to the Black Mamba as much if I had more choices—I mean, it’s not that bad, but it kinda scares me sometimes." He laughs a little.  
  
"It even sounds scarier," I agree. " _The Black Mamba_. So hardcore.”  
  
He snorts. “Yeah. There are a lot more forty-year-old pervs there. Although, that’s kind of a good thing, too, because the forty-year-old pervs actually tip really well.”  
  
I raise an eyebrow, automatically moving a bit closer to him, as if to protect him from any forty-year-old pervs. I’m still not fond of the idea of him associating with people like that, and I don’t think I ever will be. I mean, Frank and Gerard and Dan and Phil all seemed pretty cool, but they’re not the forty-year-old pervs that get off by watching some teenager get naked for them.  
  
"They do?" I say, in response to what Kellin said about them tipping well. "I thought they’d be some of the worst tippers."  
  
"Nope, they can actually be some of the best. A lot of them are burnouts who mostly just blow all their money on sex, drugs, and booze. And, surprisingly, some of them treat us more like we’re equals, like we’re not below them because of what we do. I mean, they’re burnouts, and so are a lot of us, especially in a shitty place like this. And a couple of them are kind of aware of that—that they’re not all high and mighty. Like, some of the worst tippers turn out to be those snobby twenty-somethings who think they’re so much better than us—they expect us to give shit to them practically for free. I understand the whole ‘broke college student’ thing, but seriously, if you’re a broke college student, I don’t think blowing what little money you have on a stripper is the best idea. I mean, it’d be nice for me, but you’d probably be fucked." We both laugh at that, and then his face turns red. "Sorry, I’ve been rambling. You probably don’t even really care anyways; I mean, why would y—"  
  
"I care," I interrupt, and it’s the truth—I want to know more about this job, if only so I know what he deals with. "Really."  
  
He nods slowly, looking like he doesn’t quite believe me, and I add, “I’ve been thinking about how different the Black Mamba and Lester’s sound from each other—like, Lester’s sounds so family friendly in comparison to that. It sounds like some place where you’d take your kids.”  
  
Kellin laughs, but this time it’s more than just a soft giggle. This time he really laughs, short and high and loud. A few people walking by glance in our direction, and I think I hear one mutter, “Hey, isn’t that the stripper from Vic’s party?”  
  
That’s something that I’ve been hearing quite a bit. Ever since Kellin revealed himself by hanging out with me, people have started recognizing him. At the party, most of them probably thought he was just some stripper, because he hid so much here. Now that people are seeing him, it has the potential to be all out in the open, and I don’t know what he’ll do if that happens.  
  
"Yeah, really!" Kellin says, referring to my joke. "God, Phil would not be fond of that, bringing kids in there. He doesn’t even like swearing in public. I mean, one time I overheard him alone in a back room trying to kill a spider and telling it to fuck off, but…” He shakes his head, smiling. “I don’t even know. He’s an interesting guy.”  
  
Just by the way he talks and the look on his face, I can tell how much he likes Phil, not in a romantic way, but just in a friend sort of way. I can tell how close he is to them all, and suddenly I can’t believe that some people think the only thing he cares about is sex—I can’t believe I used to be one of them. The platonic love is so real and so  _there_.  
  
"Sometimes I seriously do wonder why he even started that club in the first place," he continues. "Rumor has it, it was almost all because of Dan." He raises his eyebrows suggestively.  
  
"How?" I ask, snapping myself out of my thoughts. The bell is probably about to ring any minute now, but I love to hear him talk, so I don’t point that out.  
  
"Before Lester’s, the Black Mamba was the only gay club around—and like I said to Tay, there still aren’t any clubs for gay girls. And you know that place can get pretty intense sometimes, so not everyone wants to have to go there. Apparently, according to what Gerard has heard, Dan used to strip there, but do you remember him talking about no-touching rules?" I nod. "Yeah, he’s kinda sensitive when it comes to that," he says, "and people weren’t respecting his rules and, like, calling him a pussy and all that shit, and touching him where he didn’t want to be touched, and he really does like doing what he does; he just wanted to feel safe and in control while he was doing it. And apparently, he and Phil were in some sort of relationship at the time—they’ve been dating for as long as I can remember, so that part isn’t too hard to believe—and Phil didn’t want that to happen to Dan, and there was some other reasoning that I don’t really remember, but basically, he had the money for it, so he opened up Lester’s. Like I said, this is coming from something Gerard heard somewhere, so it might not be true, but yeah. Dan hasn’t ever confirmed it, and neither has Phil, but they never denied it, either."  
  
I don’t know Dan or Phil that well, but I find myself feeling amazed at this story, even if it might not be true. It amazes me how much Phil must’ve cared about Dan to do something like that just so he wouldn’t get hurt. He sounds protective, just like me. I think I could form a friendship with this guy.  
  
"Oh, shit," Kellin says, suddenly noticing the time on the clock and the other kids rushing through the halls. "I guess we should probably get to our classes."  
  
I nod. “Hey, wanna come over later? Sleep over, maybe?”  
  
Something about him changes then, everything turning solemn. “I can’t,” he says quietly, that odd timidness returning. “I’m sorry.”  
  
"Not even for an hour or something?" Normally I respect it when he says he can’t hang out, but there’s something different this time, something off.  
  
He shakes his head, looking almost sad. “No. I really am sorry, Vic.” He places a quick kiss on my cheek (there aren’t that many people left in the hallways anyway). “I’ll still see you around.”  
  
I can’t help but smile a little at that. Somewhere along the line, “see you around” sort of became our phrase, our way of saying goodbye. “I’ll see you around,” I agree.  
  
He nods, and the tense look on his face makes me want to just kiss him right here, right now, in the hopes that maybe it’ll make him forget about whatever’s troubling him. “Kellin, what’s wrong?” I ask instinctively, though I’ve asked the question before and never gotten an answer.  
  
"Nothing. It’s no big deal. Really. Don’t worry about it." He kisses me again, this time pecking my lips, and then he’s off, rushing down the hall. It feels sort of wrong, letting him leave on a note that’s not so happy. But then he glances back over his shoulder and winks at me, a small smile gracing his lips, and it doesn’t feel so wrong anymore.  
  
—  
  
Kellin and I talk throughout the day in our usual fashion, and overall it’s nice and casual, but I can still feel hints of that strange solemn nature, looming over us almost ominously. We still meet up at dismissal and walk out together, but that’s only because Kellin has started riding home with us regularly—sometimes he just gets dropped off at my house, but other times, like today, we drop him off at his place.  
  
Mike leaves shortly after we get home to go to a party that one of our classmates is throwing. These parties happen all the time, and I’m really not that interested, so I stay home.  
  
This doesn’t last very long, though, because once again, my curiosity is killing me. I want to know what’s been going on with Kellin, and maybe finding him at one of the clubs could be the solution to that. Maybe something’s been happening at his job lately. Then again, it could also be a family thing—or almost anything, really—but I hate feeling helpless. I have to at least check it out.  
  
With that decision made, I hop in the car and drive into the city. Kellin didn’t say which club he’s going to tonight, so I head over to Lester’s first.  
  
The place is busier than it was the last time I was here, probably because it’s a Friday. I spot Frank at the bar almost immediately and make my way over, waving as I sit down in one of the few empty barstools on the very end.  
  
"Hey!" he says cheerfully as he’s handing a drink to someone a few stools away. "I was wondering when you’d come back. I thought we scared you away." He leans up against the bar. "Does this mean Kell’s here tonight? I didn’t see him, but he can be sneaky when he wants to be."  
  
"Uh, that’s why I came here, actually," I say. "I’m looking for him."  
  
"Well, I don’t know for sure, but one of the other dancers probably does," Frank says, gaze scanning the club. "I know Gerard’s over at the Black Mamba tonight. Dan’s here, though."  
  
At that moment, a shirtless Dan appears out of nowhere, laughing and wiping some sweat off his forehead as he walks over to us. “Oh, hey!” he says to me. “So, are you here for the drinks or the strippers? Or are you looking for Kell or something?”  
  
"Uh, the third one," I reply. "We were just about to ask you if he was here."  
  
"Nope, sorry," Dan says, and I can’t help but feel a bit disappointed. I’d rather Kellin be here than at the Black Mamba.  
  
"Well, he said he was working tonight, so I guess he’s at the Black Mamba with Gerard."  
  
"Are you going over there?" Frank asks. "Because if you are, and you see Gerard, can you tell him that his favorite client misses him?" He grins.  
  
I grin back at him. “Sure. I think he’ll be pleased to hear that.”  
  
Dan cringes. “Frank, you and Gerard are just painful to watch.”  
  
Frank snorts. “And you and Phil aren’t?”  
  
"Hey, at least we’re not ridiculously oblivious," Dan replies in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. "We’re in a relationship. You and Gerard just have a bunch of unresolved tension. He’s obviously got the hots for you, so when are you gonna get the guts to ask him out?"  
  
"Shut up." Frank glances at me. "Vic agrees with me. Right, Vic?"  
  
"Uh, I don’t know," I say, laughing a little. "I do think you and Gerard would make a good couple, though. Plus, you said it yourself—you’re his favorite."  
  
"Fuck you guys." He’s starting to blush. "Vic, you of all people should be on my side. Gerard’s known for having a lot of sex with a lot of people, and I don’t have a problem with that; I’m just afraid that he won’t take it as seriously, y’know? I want it to be something serious, and I don’t know if he’d think of it that way. I don’t know if that’s the kind of relationship he’d want."  
  
I nod. “Yeah, the same thing happened with me and Kelli—Kell. I thought those same things. But now we’re dating; it turned out that he wanted a more serious relationship, too. So, personally, I think you should take a risk.”  
  
"Ha!" Dan holds his hand up, and I grin and give him a high-five. "See, Frank? The votes are in. Ask Gerard out."  
  
"Eventually!" Frank says, his face now bright red. "Okay? I’ll do it. Eventually."  
  
"Success," I say, standing up from the barstool. "Hey, not to be rude, but I kinda want to check out the Black Mamba, so…" I gesture toward the door.  
  
"Oh, yeah, you’re fine," Dan says. "I should probably get back to work anyways. It’s busy tonight."  
  
"Me too," Frank agrees, waving at me. "Later." Then, a bit louder, he adds, "And congrats on your new boyfriend!"  
  
At that, he and Dan both applaud loudly, and I laugh as I turn around and walk back out of the club. I can see why Kellin is friends with them.  
  
The Black Mamba is located around the same area as Lester’s, only a couple blocks away, so I walk there instead of taking my car. The club’s atmosphere really isn’t all that different from the atmosphere of Lester’s, but there are enough differences to set the two apart, and the Black Mamba’s apparently not-so-great reputation is one of them.  
  
I decide to get right down to business with my search. I check the bar first before moving around to the tables and chairs, all the different areas. I spot Gerard pretty early on, but he’s busy with a client, so I don’t bother him. Kellin, however, seems to have become invisible, because I can’t find him anywhere.  
  
On one far side of the club, I notice a darkened hallway, though it’s kind of in a remote place, in a corner where it’s not that easy to see. When I get closer, I realize that it’s a hallway, leading to a bunch of rooms with closed doors. These must be the private rooms.  
  
I kind of feel like somebody should be standing in front of the hallway to stop people from going back there who aren’t supposed to, but I don’t know much about these things, and there isn’t anyone there. With the way this place is run, though, maybe they just don’t give a shit—the doors are probably locked anyways.  
  
Out of curiosity, I slip into the hallway, making my way past the rooms. I can hear what sounds like moaning coming from inside them, but the music and general bustle of the club is too loud for me to make out any specific words or voices. One voice sounds kind of familiar, but only at certain points, and even then, it’s only distinct enough for me to decide that it’s probably not Kellin. None of the other voices sound like him, either.  
  
"Vic!"  
  
I spin around when I hear Gerard saying my name. He’s standing right at the opening of the hallway, sweaty and wearing a quite feminine-looking outfit. I didn’t really notice before—mostly because I was in a hurry, and also probably because of the club’s lighting—but it’s hard to miss now: He’s dyed his hair red.  
  
"I don’t think you’re supposed to be back here without a worker," he teases. "Whatcha doing?"  
  
"I’m looking for Kell," I say. "He said he was working tonight, and he wasn’t at Lester’s."  
  
Gerard nods. “Oh, yeah, he’s here. He kinda disappeared, though—the last time I saw him was, like, forty-five minutes ago, maybe an hour. But he’s probably here somewhere.” He motions for me to follow him, so that’s what I do, letting him lead me back through the club. He stops to talk with another stripper I don’t recognize, who apparently last saw Kellin about twenty minutes ago, and then we make our way over to a table close to one corner.  
  
"Frank told me to tell you that your favorite client misses him," I say when we sit down.  
  
Gerard raises his eyebrows, smirking a little. “Oh, it’ll be worth it when I get back. I’ve got a surprise for him.”  
  
"He’ll definitely like that. Also," I add, "nice hair."  
  
He grins. “Thanks. I figured it was time for a change. Party Poison needed a makeover.”  
  
I raise an eyebrow. “Party Poison?”  
  
"Oh—that’s my, like, stripper name. Party Poison. Dan’s just Dan because he’s a basic bitch, and Kell won’t tell us what his real name is. It’s probably pretty close, though. Like Kelvin or something. Kelvin is such an unfortunate name. Can you imagine having sex with a guy named  _Kelvin_?”  
  
I can’t help but laugh at that. I’ve always thought Kellin was a pretty cool name, but “Kelvin” has me cringing, and only one letter’s been changed.  
  
"Seriously, though, I always make fun of Dan and Kell for just using nicknames—like, Dan for Daniel, Kell for whatever—but I can understand why they do it. Kell told me once that he wants people to take him more seriously than they would if he had some ridiculous name. I mean, people don’t take strippers seriously anyways, but still." He shrugs. "I don’t blame them—people have some pretty ridiculous names. The guy we just talked to back there was Alex, but he mostly goes by Lex. Thing is, apparently his full stripper name is Lex Stronghorn, but he never tells that to anyone, because how are you gonna be able to take a lap dance seriously when the guy who’s giving it is named  _Lex Stronghorn_?”  
  
We both burst into laughter at that—he’s right; it does sound amazingly ridiculous.  
  
"And his boyfriend isn’t much better," he continues once we’ve calmed down. "His name’s Jack, so he goes by the Jackhammer."  
  
If anything, I just laugh even harder at that one.  
  
"And there’s this one guy who doesn’t have a stripper name and got a racist nickname instead," Gerard says, rolling his eyes and getting more serious. "So the only people who ever call him that are assholes. His name’s Jaime, and he’s Mexican, so people started calling him the Sexican—cringe-worthy, right?—and then it just kind of stuck. Which was kind of funny at first, until he pointed out that, like, it’s offensive. So there’s that. I’m not too surprised, to be honest, ‘cause most of the people here are offensive in general."  
  
"Oh, wow," I say, though I’m not really surprised, either. "But hold up—Jaime? He’s one of my best friends."  
  
Gerard’s eyes widen. “Oh.  _Oh._  Oh my God, I’m an idiot. How did I not realize that when I first heard your name? He talks about you guys sometimes—you, and your brother Mike, and the other one’s Tony, right?”  
  
I nod. “Yeah, that’s us. Jaime doesn’t know that we know about his job, though. We saw him here about a week ago.”  
  
"Yeah, I think he thinks you’ll, like, disown him or something. Well, he used to, but now that you’re dating a stripper and nobody else seems to be having much of a problem with it, he said he’s thinking about telling you guys."  
  
"I’ve definitely been seeing him a bit differently the past week," I admit. "But it’s not necessarily in a bad way. Like, this explains why he’s always so busy. I’m just kinda worried, the same way I’m worried about Kell. I’m paranoid that something bad is gonna happen to one of them."  
  
"You seem like that kind of person," Gerard agrees, nodding. "Like you’d be really protective. Not sure why, but I can definitely see it, and I can understand why. Especially here. You know why there were so many rooms back in that hallway? There normally aren’t that many, but this place doubles as a secret prostitution club."  
  
I just stare at him for a few moments. “Are you serious?”  
  
He nods. “Oh, yeah. I mean, not every stripper is a prostitute. And not every prostitute is a stripper. What goes on in that back hallway ranges wildly.”  
  
I’m actually not that surprised, considering everything I know about the Black Mamba, but it still catches me a bit off-guard. If Kellin uses this place for prostitution, he’s breaking the law, and he could get in a lot of trouble for it.  
  
At that moment, the guy from earlier, Alex, pops up. “Hey,” he says. “Kell’s in the bathroom, I think. I overheard someone in there and just kind of took a quick glance. It looked a lot like him from that split second, but I didn’t go in to check. He was standing at the sinks.”  
  
"Well, we’ll go check," Gerard replies. "Thanks, Stronghorn."  
  
Alex laughs and flips him off. “No problem, PP.” Gerard rolls his eyes, but he’s laughing, too.  
  
I stand up, and Gerard nods at me as he’s talking to Alex, as if to say that it’s okay for me to leave. I already know where the bathroom is—I checked it earlier—so I find it quickly and push open the door.  
  
I see Kellin immediately—we’re the only ones in here. He’s directly in front of me but turned to face the left wall where the sinks are, just like Alex said. His face is red, and he seems to be staring intensely at his own reflection, taking deep, shaky breaths. He looks like he’s trying to calm himself down.  
  
"Kellin!" I say, and he jumps a little in surprise, holding his hand up to his heart.  
  
"Oh—Vic!" he exclaims, his voice slightly cracking and uneven. "What…what are you doing here?"  
  
"I’ve been looking for you." I take a step closer. “How long have you been in here?”  
  
He shrugs, glancing away. “I don’t know. Ten, fifteen minutes, maybe…hasn’t been that long…”  
  
"Why are you in here?" I ask. "Why do you look so…?"  
  
I’m not sure how to describe it, but the look on his face tells me that I don’t need to.  
  
"I just…haven’t been having the best week. I’ve been trying to make myself look better, but maybe I should just go home."  
  
"What happened?" I rest a hand on his cheek.  
  
He just stares at me for a few seconds. “It’s just…some people. I’m in a conflict with some people. They want something. And I don’t want to give it to them, but I’m afraid of what’ll happen if I don’t.”  
  
I take my hand away, automatically clenching it into an angry fist. “You don’t deserve to be harassed like that. Who are they?”  
  
"I know what you’re thinking, Vic, but you can’t do anything. Believe me. It doesn’t involve you. It’s not that much of a problem, really. When it’s all over, I’ll tell you about it, okay? I think they’re starting to give up anyways. Please, let’s just go home."  
  
I hate not knowing the specifics about what’s going on, but it’s better than him claiming he’s tired or simply denying that anything’s wrong. “Okay,” I say softly, taking his hand. “Should I bring you back to my house, or drop you off at yours? I mean, I know you said you couldn’t stay at my place, but…”  
  
He shakes his head. “No, it’s good now. Promise. So, uh, yours, I guess. If that’s okay.” He sends me a small smile. “Feel like I’ve been ignoring you all week.”  
  
I make a teasing face at him. “Well…”  
  
"Shut up." He hits my arm lightly, breaking into a wide grin, and everything turns back to normal.


	13. Promise, Promise

The drive home is quieter than usual. Kellin and I make small conversation, but the silence can’t seem to be completely broken, hanging over us like a smothering cloud. Eventually we both just stop trying to stay casual and let it envelope us so that the only sounds are the sounds of our quiet breathing and the sounds of the car as I drive. Really, this silence is more comfortable than our awkward attempts at conversation.  
  
We still don’t say anything when we reach my house. It’s not until I unlock the front door and turn on the lights that Kellin speaks up: “I didn’t realize nobody was home.” He’s not saying it in a suggestive tone like I’d expect him to; his voice is actually surprisingly monotone, like he’s tired. He probably is.  
  
"Yeah, Mike’s at a party," I explain. "And Mom’s…you know."  
  
He nods solemnly. “Yeah.” Then he rubs his eyes. “Hey, can I just, like, sleep? Sorry if it’s not convenient. I just wanna crash here. I mean, Dad moved out, finally, so he’s not gonna yell at me when I get home or anything, and Mom won’t, either, but I just…I don’t know. I just like it here better. It feels more like home.”  
  
I step forward and kiss him on the forehead. “Of course you can sleep here. You said it yourself—you’ve been ignoring me all week anyways.” I shoot him a teasing smirk, and he flashes me a small but genuine smile in return.  
  
"Okay. Good. Thank you." He brushes past me and starts to make his way to the stairs. "Is it okay if I sleep in your bed? I mean, I know I did it last time, but…" He shrugs.  
  
"Oh, yeah, that’s fine," I reply. "I’ll probably be up soon anyways."  
  
Kellin just nods and heads upstairs. I end up following him after about five minutes of just lying on the couch and absentmindedly flipping through TV channels. I can hear tiny snores coming from where he has already fallen asleep on one side of my bed, buried underneath the covers. I climb in on the other side and wrap an arm around his waist, and he shuffles a little, letting out a small noise and shifting closer to me. “Vic,” he murmurs, resting his head against my chest before sighing and returning to his original sleeping pattern.  
  
We fall asleep like that, our bodies pressed against each other, no protests and no questions asked, no explanations needed. We don’t talk about what happened tonight; we don’t talk at all. We’re simply asleep, and for once in my life, everything is peaceful and quiet, and all of my problems seem to have melted away.  
  
—  
  
Waking up the next morning isn’t as peaceful as falling asleep was, but it never is. For a few moments I’m completely disoriented, which is probably due in part to the fact that there’s a body pressed against mine, and that’s not something I’m used to. I rub my eyes and squint at the sunlight streaming through my bedroom window, glancing over at the sleeping figure who has been quietly breathing next to my ear. At first I don’t recognize him, his hair all a mess and his face partially hidden by the covers and the pillow, but then I remember everything that happened yesterday, and I remember that, oh yes, that’s Kellin Quinn, my extremely tired boyfriend.  
  
I don’t want to wake him from what seems like a pretty sound sleep, so I try not to move, except for to absentmindedly play with his hair or his fingers. I don’t know what it is about him that makes me feel the need to always be touching some part of him; I guess it’s just that I want to admire every inch of him, and I want to feel like I can always protect him. I’ve never felt like this before, not even with Beau. It’s different, but I think I like it.  
  
Kellin twitches suddenly, an odd sort of movement followed by a small noise of distress. He shakes his head and presses himself even closer to me. “Stop,” he whimpers, holding onto me like he’s falling off a cliff and I’m the only one who can save him. “Please, no…I don’t wanna, I don’t wanna… _stop_.”  
  
"Shhhh, it’s okay," I whisper, rubbing his back and trying to calm him down from whatever dream he’s having. "Nobody’s gonna hurt you, baby, I’m here…"  
  
He makes another small whimpering noise, and then his body jolts slightly. Kellin gasps, his eyes flying open. He seems even more disoriented than I was, and once he registers where he is and who he’s with, he sighs. “Oh. Sorry about that. I normally don’t get those too often. Did I wake you up?”  
  
I just hold him close to me. “No, I was already awake.” After a short pause, I add, “You want to tell me about it?”  
  
He shakes his head. “No, I’m okay now. I’ve just been stressed out lately. It happens. Don’t worry about me.”  
  
"I’m not good at not worrying," I admit.  
  
"I’ve noticed." He looks up at me and smiles, affectionately running a hand through my hair. "Think you could work on that?"  
  
I nod. “I’ll try.” It feels like a promise when I say it, a promise I want to try to keep. Easier said than done.  
  
Kellin shifts his position a little and leans up to kiss me. Our lips move slowly and gently, and he never breaks contact as he climbs onto my lap. I hold him tightly by his waist as we kiss and kiss again, still soft and sweet even as he threads his fingers in my hair, even as I run my hands under his shirt.  
  
"I’m sorry," he whispers, pulling away slightly. "I just…wanted to kiss you."  
  
"Well, I’ve been wanting to kiss you, too," I reply, "so I guess we’re even."  
  
He grabs me by the shirt and pulls himself back down, kissing me again, harder. I run my tongue across his bottom lip, lightly pushing it through and letting it roam around in his mouth. He sighs a little, our tongues playing with each other as he starts to rock his hips slowly against mine.  
  
At this point, I decide to take control, pushing him over and climbing on top of him. We’re still kissing like crazy, and our lips will probably be swollen later, but neither of us care. I love to kiss him, and I know he loves to kiss me. So that’s what we do.  
  
I break it off to kiss his jawline, moving down to his neck, and he shudders a little at my touch as I start to nip at the skin. “Y-yes,” he gasps softly. “Fuck. I will never get tired of your lips.”  
  
"Good," I reply, running my tongue across the newly-forming hickey, "because I’ll never get tired of using them on you."  
  
He makes a soft noise of pleasure, and I’m just about to move down to his collarbone when my phone starts ringing on the nightstand. I groan in frustration.  
  
"You should probably get that," Kellin says. "It might be important."  
  
"Ugh. Other people. You’re the only person I really want to talk to right now." I grab the phone and glance at the screen—it’s Jaime—before climbing off of Kellin and pressing the "Answer" button. "Hello?"  
  
"Hey, Vic. Listen, um…just wanted to let you know that something happened, and, uh, I’m in the hospital."  
  
I feel my heart drop down into my stomach. “You’re  _what_? Why? How? What happened?”  
  
"It’s no big deal, really. I’ll probably be in school on Monday; I just need to have a couple things fixed or looked at, to make sure nothing’s been seriously damaged."  
  
I can hardly believe what I’m hearing, and I’m especially shocked at how casual he sounds. “But why do you need to have things fixed? Why could there be serious damage, possibly? What happened?”  
  
"Things just got a little out of control. It’s fine now, really."  
  
He’s being so vague, and it’s killing me. “A little out of control with what?”  
  
And then I realize: It has something to do with his job, with being a stripper. That’s why he doesn’t want to tell me.  
  
What could’ve possibly happened that would send someone to the _hospital_?  
  
"Actually, never mind," I add. "Sorry. I just…yeah. Is there anything I can do?"  
  
"I don’t think so, sorry. I just wanted to let you know. Really, though, I’m not, like, dying or anything. So you can calm your tits." He laughs a little.  
  
"My tits aren’t very good at being calm," I reply, already feeling a bit lighter now that he’s made a joke of some sort.  
  
"Well, teach them. Teach the tits. I’ll talk to you later, okay?"  
  
Now it’s my turn to laugh, and for a brief second, I actually forget the reason he’s calling. “Yeah, okay, Hime. Bye.”  
  
When I hang up and set the phone back down, Kellin says, “Did something happen with Jaime, then?”  
  
With that, the reality comes crashing back down around me. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “He’s in the hospital.”  
  
Kellin just stares at me, eyes wide. “Oh my God. Did he tell you why?”  
  
I shake my head. “No. Just that things got a little out of control. It’s not that bad, apparently; he’ll probably still be in school on Monday.”  
  
He takes a deep breath. “Oh. Okay. That’s good.”  
  
"Do you know what happened?" I ask. He seems really concerned for Jaime’s safety.  
  
"No, but I have an idea." He bites his lip.  
  
"I do, too," I say. "Was he working at the Black Mamba last night? Or Lester’s, for that matter?"  
  
Kellin just looks at me. “You know he’s a—?”  
  
"Yeah, I found out, like, last week. He doesn’t know that I know, though."  
  
He nods slowly. “Okay. Well, yeah. Yeah, he was working at the Black Mamba last night. He was, uh, in the private rooms quite a bit.”  
  
"I should’ve known something was going on." I lie down on the bed, closing my eyes as the sudden and undeniable guilt washes over me. "I was there. I looked everywhere for you before I found you in the bathroom. I went back into that hallway where the private rooms are. I should’ve seen or heard  _something_.”  
  
"Vic, please don’t," Kellin says, and when I open my eyes, he’s still staring right at me. He looks and sounds so sad. "Please don’t blame yourself for this." He runs his fingers lightly through my hair, lying down next to me and resting his head on my chest.  
  
"I’ll try not to," I say, but the truth is, I’ll probably be blaming myself for a long time.  
  
—  
  
Kellin and I lie there together for a while, just listening to each other’s steady breathing. But eventually Kellin leaves, kissing me goodbye and saying, “Thank you. For letting me stay over. And for everything else, really. Just…thank you.”  
  
"Anytime," I reply, and I mean it. I want him to feel comfortable here, and I want him to be able to come over pretty much whenever he feels like it.  
  
The rest of the day is pretty uneventful. I stay in my room most of the time, only coming out to get food or talk to Mike. Mom is downstairs watching TV—I don’t think she really knows what to do with herself on the weekends, when she doesn’t have work. Her eyes are glazed, her expression blank, and to be quite honest, that’s the only way I can remember her. I can’t remember what her smile looks like. I can’t remember what she looked like when Dad was still here. Those memories have all been replaced with the alcoholic stranger who still can’t even be bothered to take care of her two kids.  
  
This is why it surprises me when, as I’m digging around in the kitchen for something for lunch, she stands up and actually walks over to me, leaning against the breakfast bar. “Who was that boy who was here earlier?” she asks softly.  
  
Oh. She must’ve seen Kellin leaving. “Uh, that was Kellin,” I say. “My, uh, boyfriend.”  
  
She smiles a little at that. (She already knew I was gay, so it’s not a huge deal.) “He seems nice,” she says. “He talked to me before he left.”  
  
"He did?" That’s new.  
  
"Mm-hmm. Asked me how I was doing, how I was feeling, if I needed anything. Casual things like that. Is he always that way?"  
  
I think back to what he once said, about always feeling the need to give people things because that’s all he does. I think back to how caring and concerned he was this morning, the way he kept running his fingers through my hair, as if that was his way of comforting me or reassuring me.  
  
"For the most part, yeah," I say. "He is."  
  
—  
  
Kellin texts me and tells me he’s going to be at the Black Mamba again tonight, and I find myself heading over to it. I’m not sure what it is I plan to do there, but after last night, I kind of feel the need to just be there. If Jaime ended up in the hospital because of something that happened here, I don’t want to think that Kellin could suffer the same fate, or worse.  
  
I haven’t been able to push the thought of Jaime out of my mind. I keep running the words over and over in my head:  _You should’ve known. You should’ve stopped it somehow._  Kellin told me not to blame myself, and I really am trying, but it’s so difficult when I feel like I could’ve prevented it.  
  
"Hey, Vic. Fancy seeing you here."  
  
I’m sitting at one of the tables in one corner, and I look up immediately at the sound of that voice. “Beau?” I say as my ex sits down opposite me. “What are you doing here?”  
  
He shrugs, making a vague gesture at the whole place in general. “It’s a gay club, is it not?”  
  
"Yeah, but I just didn’t expect you to be involved in all this," I say.  
  
"Are you kidding? Of course I am. Strippers and prostitutes make some of the best customers. They’re all druggies with daddy issues. Perfect."  
  
I just look at him, not quite sure how to respond. My mouth moves faster than my mind. “So you’re dealing here tonight, huh?”  
  
A slow grin spreads across his face. “There’s the Vic I’m used to.”  
  
I don’t say anything.  
  
"Yes," he continues, "I’m dealing. And I can do it pretty publicly here, ‘cause no one gives a shit." He pulls a small plastic bag out of one of his pockets, filled with familiar different colored pills. "Look at these babies, Vic. Pop one of ‘em, and everything you worry about constantly? It’ll all just disappear, down the drain. You know it."  
  
"Um…" I’m about to decline when I remember the guilt about Jaime, the self-blaming thoughts and emotions that have been dancing around in my mind all day. It sure would be nice to forget about those for a while. Plus, the drugs are right there, so fucking tempting, and I can’t help but think,  _What’s one more little pill?_  
  
Before I have a chance to make a decision, a hand slams down on the table, and Beau and I look up to see none other than Kellin Quinn. “I think you should go now,” he says to Beau.  
  
Beau just stares at him. “And why would I do that, slut?”  
  
"How about this: If you get out of here and leave me and Vic the fuck alone, I  _won’t_  call the police on you.” He picks up the bag of pills. “Oh, look. Evidence.” Then he gestures around the busy club. “Oh, look. Witnesses.”  
  
"You wouldn’t do that," Beau says, rolling his eyes, but he still stands up, takes the bag from Kellin, and walks away.  
  
I turn to Kellin, who is wearing nothing but pretty pink panties. “Thanks,” I say. “I was kind of about to make a bad decision.” I can’t help it—I glance down at his crotch, noting the outline of his dick through the thin fabric. It’s like he’s practically naked in comparison to briefs.  
  
"I could tell," Kellin says. Then he seems to notice where I’m looking, and the serious air dissipates a little when he smirks. "Enjoying the view, I assume?"  
  
My gaze roams up and down his sweaty, shirtless body, admiring his thighs, his hips, his chest, his shoulder blades and collarbone…he really does have a great body. That’s probably a good thing, considering that he’s a stripper.  
  
"Uh huh," I say, in response to his question, a bit too focused on just looking at him to come up with a better reply.  
  
"I’ve got an idea," he says. "Something that can help you forget about anything that’s bothering you. And it’s better than drugs, probably."  
  
I raise an eyebrow. “What?”  
  
His smirk widens, and he pushes the table back a little, then smoothly wraps one leg around my waist and pulls himself up onto my lap. “How about a free lap dance for the boyfriend?”  
  
I have to admit—I like this idea. “Are you allowed to do that?”  
  
"Vic, I’m running this show. I can do whatever I want." His lips ghost across my jawline, soft and teasing and starting to drive me crazy. "So, what do you say, baby?"  
  
I try to match his smirk with my own. “Here’s what I say: Do your worst.”  
  
In an instant, he’s got both legs wrapped around me and is starting to slowly grind himself down against me. His hands are on my shoulders, and he’s looking right at me, his eyes filled with lust. His hips move right in time with the song playing as if he was made to perform it, a professional in the art of turning me on.  
  
"Imagine this," he says softly, his lips right next to my ear. "Imagine all the other people here are gone, and so are all our clothes. Imagine I’m riding you, bouncing up and down on your cock, and you’re fucking me so hard, so deep inside me…"  
  
Kellin once told me that English is his best subject, and now I understand why—he’s got a way with words.  
  
"Fuck," I whisper as his erection rubs against mine through the panties. I grab his hips, letting one hand roam down to his ass, and he just moves faster at that, tangling his fingers in my hair, kissing and biting my neck. These are things he didn’t do the first time, on my birthday. These are things I never see anybody else do for their clients.  
  
Maybe I’m crazy, but I think he’s trying to show me that I’m more than just a client to him.  
  
I’m more turned on than I probably should be by the time the song ends and he slows down before eventually stopping. “Technically we’re not allowed to make you come unless we’re prostitutes in the private rooms,” he says slowly. Somewhat discreetly, he reaches down my pants and takes ahold of my throbbing shaft. I gasp a little.  
  
"But," he continues, "I don’t wanna leave you to jerk yourself off, and nobody’s paying attention to us. I’ve already made enough exceptions for you, so what’s one more?" With that, he pushes my pants and boxers down a little and pulls out my length, stroking me quickly and expertly. At first I’m a bit nervous and embarrassed—my dick is out in  _public_ , for fuck’s sake—but then I realize that he’s right: Nobody’s watching. At this point, I decide that I’m too horny to be embarrassed, too close to a climax.  
  
"Fuck, oh my God," I groan as I come, leaning my head back against the chair and closing my eyes.  
  
Kellin stays with me for a few moments after that. “That was fun,” he comments. “I like doing these things with you. I enjoy it a lot more.” He kisses me on the cheek. “I should probably be getting back to work, though. You don’t have to stay the whole time if you don’t want to.”  
  
"I know, but…" I trail off, thinking of how upset he was last night, thinking of whatever happened with Jaime.  
  
"I like your protectiveness, but really, I’ll be fine." He flashes me a smile.  
  
"Uh, Kell?" At that point, Alex appears seemingly out of nowhere. "Not to rain on your parade, but don’t you have actual customers that you should be focusing on?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I was getting there," Kellin replies. "Don’t pretend you and your boyfriend don’t have daily stripping wars when you’re supposed to be working."  
  
Alex flips him off, laughing.  
  
"Also," Kellin adds, turning to me, "I may or may not end up coming to your house later. Depends on how the rest of the night goes."  
  
"That’s fine with me." And I’m telling the truth—I liked sleeping with him last night. I liked the feeling of his body against mine. I liked feeling less alone.  
  
I end up going home only a few minutes after that. Kellin is all over the place, and I’m having a hard time keeping track of him. I’ve decided to trust that he knows what he’s doing, though. Of course he does. He said it himself: He runs the show. My only worry is that Jaime supposedly runs the show, too, and now he’s in the hospital because of something that happened to him. That wouldn’t have been planned. Something went wrong.  
  
It’s late when I get a message from Kellin:  _im outside ur house, bae. u look cute af. now let me in_  
  
So articulate, yet this is how he chooses to text. I find it endearing.  
  
 _I’ll be right there,_  I reply.  _And how do you know how cute I look???  
  
i can c u thru the window ;)_  
  
A second message comes a few moments later:  _im kidding. i cant c u. but i wish i could bc ur probs rly cute. maybe i could if u’d OPEN THE FUCKIN DOOR_  
  
I laugh out loud at that one. I still don’t know whether or not he’s being sarcastic when he texts this way.  
  
I’m lying in bed, and I’m so comfortable, but I force myself to climb out, run downstairs, and open the door for Kellin.  
  
"God, finally," he says, rushing into the house and out of the cold. "I’m so tired. And I really want cuddles."  
  
"I could provide you with cuddles," I suggest, closing the door and rubbing my eyes. "I was just about to fall asleep anyways."  
  
"Good, because I really need cuddles. Sex would be nice, too. But that’s optional. It’s mostly cuddles. Cuddles are my main priority right now."  
  
The next thing I know, we’re both climbing into my bed, and Kellin is so close to me that our lips are less than an inch away from meeting. I decide to bridge the distance, kissing him softly, and he sighs into my mouth, eyes closed. “Okay, I lied about the sex,” he says sleepily. “Too tired for sex. Just cuddles. And kisses. Kisses are nice.”  
  
I kiss him on his forehead, wrapping my arm around his waist—I think that’s become one of my favorite things to do, a gesture that’s both protective and comforting. “Hey,” I say, a thought crossing my mind that I haven’t really brought up yet. “So, Gerard told me something.”  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
This might not be the best time, considering he’s already half-asleep, but it’s too late to go back now. “He told me that the Black Mamba doubles as a place for prostitution.”  
  
He opens his eyes and looks right at me. “So, what?” he asks, sounding a little more awake. “Are you asking if I’ve done that? Or if I do it even while I’m dating you?”  
  
And here’s the thing: That last bit never even crossed my mind. I didn’t think about his reputation or how much he likes sex; all I thought about was that he could get in trouble if he’s caught doing that, if he even does it.  
  
"I was just worried that, if you have done it, then you could get into a lot of trouble for it," I say.  
  
He laughs a little. “You used to be involved with drugs, and you’re worried about me getting in trouble.” He kisses me. “Really, though, don’t worry about it.” Then he sighs. “I mean…okay, I’ve done it before. Not often, actually, but I have done it. But I meant it when I said that I don’t cheat. Actually, I’ll make you a promise right now, okay? So you don’t have to worry about it. I promise that I will never have sex with anyone that’s not you while we’re dating. Not even if it’s just for the job. This excludes blowjobs and hand jobs, if that’s okay with you. They have a pretty good pay. I promise that yours will be better than the ones I give to my clients because you’re extra-special.”  
  
The “blowjobs and hand jobs” bit is slightly bothering me—mostly because I’m jealous—but I’m gradually starting to realize that it’s just part of his work. “Okay,” I say. “We’re clear, then? No sex with someone who isn’t me?”  
  
"Crystal clear," he replies, kissing me again. "I really hope I’m not being too clingy or anything," he says, though now he’s talking more to himself than to me. "I just like your house better. And you. I like you better."  
  
"Well, that’s perfect," I say, "because I like you better, too."  
  
And that’s the way we fall asleep, talking about nothing, all wrapped up in each other.


	14. People Will Dissect Us

“This is about me being a massive whore, isn’t it?”  
  
Those are some of the first words I hear when I wake up, spoken by Kellin, and it takes me a few seconds to realize that he’s not talking to me. I rub my eyes and open them slowly, which is when I realize that he’s not in my bed with me anymore; he’s standing right outside my door, and standing next to him is the person he  _is_  talking to: Mike.  
  
"Not necessarily," Mike replies, crossing his arms over his chest. "It’s just kind of about you in general."  
  
Kellin sighs. “Then it  _is_  about me being a massive whore. Oh, boy. I thought I was starting to change that reputation.”  
  
"Reputations are a hard thing to change," Mike says. "But seriously. This isn’t about that. It’s just about Vic."  
  
Kellin gives a small, halfhearted laugh. “Is this the ‘if you hurt my brother I’ll kill you’ speech? I’ve been waiting for that.”  
  
Mike snorts. “Yeah, you could say that.”  
  
Kellin motions to himself. “Okay, then. Lay it on me. Cue the death threats. I’m ready.”  
  
"Well," Mike says, "first of all, I just want to say that the last thing Vic needs is more shit to deal with, so if you’re planning on causing any problems, you can just walk out that front door right now."  
  
"I’m not planning anything."  
  
There’s a short pause, and then Mike says, slowly, “Are you planning on having sex with him?”  
  
"Excuse me," Kellin says, and now he does sound a little offended. "I believe that’s our own business."  
  
"I know," Mike says quickly. "I’m sorry. I just…want to make sure you’re respecting his boundaries."  
  
"I am, I promise you," Kellin assures him. "We’ve established that. We do what he wants to do. He even initiates it sometimes."  
  
Mike nods. “Okay. Good. I’m just afraid that…” He trails off.  
  
"Afraid that…?" Kellin prompts.  
  
Mike sighs. “I’m afraid that you’re just using Vic for sex, okay? Shoot me. I want to trust you, really. I don’t like having this conversation. But…”  
  
"But there it is," Kellin interrupts. "That goddamn reputation. See, I told you. It  _is_  about me being a whore. At least a little bit. I understand where you’re coming from, though. Honestly, I do. I think Vic’s afraid of that, too—or, at least, he used to be—and that’s something that’s holding him back. Because he knows that I like sex, and he knows that I have sex with a lot of people, and he’s afraid that he’s just another attractive guy to me. He’s afraid that if he opens up, if we tie that knot, then I’ll just drop him like he’s nothing and move on to the next one. And that’s what you’re afraid of, too. Right?”  
  
Mike is speechless for a few moments, and I don’t blame him. People really don’t give Kellin enough credit for how smart he is, because he  _is_  smart. He’s completely aware of how people think and feel about him. I’ve noticed that he has a knack for that—understanding human nature.  
  
"Yeah," Mike says. "Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m afraid of."  
  
"Well, I can tell you this: I would’ve given up by now if all I wanted from Vic was sex. Tons of guys have slept with me, even ones who claimed to be straight. I wouldn’t work this hard for just one guy when I know there are plenty more who will give me what I want without hesitation. I’m dating Vic because I like  _him_ , not just his body.”  
  
Mike just looks at him for a few moments, as if he’s evaluating him. “Good,” he says, “because Vic really fucking likes you, and I don’t want to watch him get all fucked up again just because some douche decided it’d be funny to play with his heart.”  
  
"Whoa, Mike, calm down," I call, sitting up and finally revealing that I’ve been listening.  
  
Kellin and Mike both turn and glance into the room. “Oh,” Mike says. “I didn’t realize you were awa—”  
  
"Yeah, I’m awake, alright." I stand up and make my way over to them. "Mike, I think you’ve made your point."  
  
"No," Mike protests. "I’m not done yet."  
  
"Yes, you are. I think you’ve interrogated him enough today."  
  
"I’m just trying to look out for you."  
  
"Well, can you lay off a little?" I’m actually getting a bit angry with him by now. "Please? We’re not little kids anymore. I can make my own decisions about who I want to date." I glance at Kellin apologetically—I really don’t want to argue with Mike in front of him.  
  
"You expect me to trust you, but you don’t trust me. I know you don’t. I know you think I’m a bomb just waiting to go off. And, to be honest, that’s what I think about you. I’m not letting this be Beau Bokan all over again."  
  
"We don’t talk about Beau Bokan," I snap. "He was a mistake. He was what happened when I didn’t know how to deal with all my shit. Don’t you  _dare_ compare him to Kellin.”  
  
Mike and I glare at each other for a few more seconds. Then Mike just pushes past me and storms away, into his room, slamming the door behind him.  
  
I sigh and turn to Kellin, who’s looking at me with a bit of alarm in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I say softly as I slowly calm down. “I just got mad.”  
  
"It’s okay," he says. "You’re allowed to get mad at things."  
  
"Do you want to go out somewhere?" I ask. Suddenly, I need to get out of this goddamn house. "Like, for breakfast or something?"  
  
He nods, giving me a small smile. “Yeah. I’d like that.”  
  
A few minutes later, we’re climbing into the car, and it’s only once I start driving that I dare to talk about what just happened. “Sometimes having siblings is nice,” I say, “but other times, it’s more trouble than it’s worth.”  
  
Kellin snorts. “Agreed.”  
  
"I just didn’t really like the way he was talking to you, y’know? I mean, I know he’s just worried about me, but…"  
  
"I guess he has a right to be protective, though," Kellin says thoughtfully. "I don’t exactly have the cleanest past. Or the cleanest present. And I probably don’t have a very clean future, either, for that matter."  
  
I sigh, reaching across the console and lacing his fingers together with mine. “You have to understand,” I say. “Mike’s a good guy. Really. He’s just…angry. Angry and scared. He’s angry at the world, angry at our mom, angry at me…but at the same time, he’s scared of losing us. Our whole family is kind of falling apart, and he’ll do anything to make sure it doesn’t get any worse than it already is. He’ll do anything to make sure I don’t fall back into my old habits.”  
  
He nods. “May I ask why you fell into those habits in the first place? Or is that too personal?”  
  
I take a deep breath. It’s a sensitive subject, but maybe it would be better to talk to someone about it.  
  
"Was it because of your dad dying?"  
  
My grip tightens on the wheel. I can’t remember the last time I admitted that the reason Dad is gone is because he died. Everyone in this town knows anyway. He died in a car crash because he was driving drunk. I guess substance abuse runs in the family.  
  
"Yeah," I say softly. "I think it was kind of a domino effect, after Dad died. It started with Mom; she just kind of lost it. At first Mike and I thought it wasn’t that bad, that she was just in a slump and would get better as time went on, but obviously that didn’t happen. Mike was next. I guess he decided that if the alcohol made Mom feel better—and Dad, too, for that matter—then maybe he could use it to drown his sorrows, too. But he didn’t get that bad until after I got bad, with the drugs and everything. And I got bad because, well, I couldn’t handle it all. I couldn’t handle watching Mom fall apart, and I couldn’t handle watching Mike follow in her footsteps, and I couldn’t handle feeling like I had nowhere to turn…Beau was the one I turned to, and that was possibly my biggest mistake. Then it just kind of went downhill, and Mike got worse when he saw me getting worse, and it was as if we sort of fed off of each other’s addictions. But then things got so bad that I ended up in the hospital." I bite my lip. I haven’t talked about this since I got clean.  
  
Kellin’s eyes widen. “Holy shit. I never knew about that. Did they call the police, or…?”  
  
I shake my head. “Not all hospitals are required to contact the police about an overdose. And the drugs I took that time weren’t illegal. They asked me some questions, though, because they were suspicious. Thought it might’ve been a suicide attempt.”  
  
Kellin hesitates before asking, “Was it?”  
  
All the memories that I’ve tried to suppress are coming back now. I take a deep breath and try to focus on the road. We’re almost at the place I’m taking Kellin to for breakfast.  
  
"I don’t know," I say finally. "I don’t know what it was. I just remember that during that time, all I wanted was to…not exist. I wanted to destroy myself, and I didn’t care how. I felt like a fuck-up. I felt like I should just stop trying to do something right, because it’ll only cause more pain in the end."  
  
"And what…what made you stop?" His voice is slightly shaky, and when I glance over at him, he looks like he’s about to cry.  
  
"I think it was Mike," I say truthfully, squeezing his hand comfortingly. "I remember nights when I was on so many different drugs I couldn’t tell which way was up, and I remember him yelling at me, telling me he wasn’t gonna let me throw my whole life away. I remember what a mess he was when I was in the hospital. I remember one night afterward, when I was puking my guts up in the bathroom, and I just kept saying it over and over again, about how I didn’t want to live, and I remember him begging me not to die on him…I wanted to stay alive for him. I wanted to get better for him."  
  
At that point, we reach the restaurant, a small but decent place in the city. I glance over at Kellin again. He’s not crying, but there’s sadness in his eyes.  
  
"It’s okay," I say, leaning forward and pecking him on the lips. "Don’t cry over me. I’m okay now. I’m sorry for talking about this."  
  
"Don’t be. I shouldn’t have even brought it up."  
  
"It’s okay, really," I assure him. "Let’s go eat, and we can talk about something less emotionally exhausting. Like…I don’t know. Taxes."  
  
Kellin snorts, seeming to return to his normal self. “Dude. Taxes are _extremely_  emotionally exhausting.”  
  
From there, we slip back into comfortable banter as we hop out of the car and make our way to the restaurant. I open the door for Kellin, who gives me a confused look before simply smiling a little.  
  
Once we’re seated in a booth, our drink orders taken, he asks me, “Why’d you do that?”  
  
I narrow my eyes. “Do what?”  
  
"Hold the door open for me."  
  
I shrug. “I don’t know. I just wanted to do it. It seemed like a nice thing to do. But I’ll stop if you don’t want me to do it.”  
  
"No, it’s fine," he says quickly. "It was just…weird. Nobody’s ever done that for me before. I mean, I never really expected anyone to, but…"  
  
He doesn’t need to say anything; I know what he means. He’s showing me just another example of how much he’s not used to people being good to him.  
  
"Well, then," I proclaim as our waiter comes back over with our drinks, "I guess I’ll have to do that for you more often."  
  
Kellin just blushes and sends me an appreciative smile.  
  
"Hey," I say after a few moments, once our food orders have been taken. "So, um, about that promise you made me last night…"  
  
Kellin takes a sip of his drink and looks at me. “Hmm? What about it?”  
  
Honestly, he was so tired last night that one of the reasons I’m bringing it up right now is to make sure he still remembers it—I know I’m not usually the most coherent when I can barely keep my eyes open. He seems to know exactly what I’m talking about, though.  
  
"I was just wondering…what would be the, um, the conditions of it?" He looks a bit confused, so I elaborate: "Is it only hand jobs and blowjobs? What about kissing? ‘Cause I don’t really like the thought of you kissing other people. And it’s only limited to your job, right? You’re not gonna be sucking people off for no reason? It’ll only be if you get paid?"  
  
"Yes, it only applies to my job," Kellin replies smoothly, looking a bit amused. "It’s only hand jobs and blowjobs—y’know, along with lap dances and all that shit—and it’s only when I get paid. I will not be sucking someone off, unless it’s you, without getting paid for it. And absolutely no kissing—again, unless it’s with you—will be performed. Definitely not. People don’t pay me for kisses anyways, so I wouldn’t be losing anything by giving that up. But I don’t think I’d do it even if I did get paid for it. I feel like kissing is reserved for something a bit more special, y’know?"  
  
I nod, smiling at him. I should’ve known that he’d agree to those terms; the questions were pretty obvious, I guess, but I wanted to make sure. I wanted to make it clear.  
  
Without warning, Kellin leans across the table and plants a soft kiss on my lips. “See, I don’t give those out willy-nilly,” he says when he pulls away. “But you’re special, Vic, so you can have all the kisses you want.”  
  
—  
  
Everything is nice and good when we leave the restaurant and start walking back down the sidewalk to the car. That doesn’t last very long, though, because walking past us are a bunch of kids from school, led by the two (still nameless) guys that have given Kellin a hard time in the past. Oh, joy.  
  
Kellin takes my hand and subtly speeds up, lowering his head. At first I think we might be able to pass them without conflict—after all, they’ve been leaving him alone a lot more since the incident at the Black Mamba—but that’s not the case.  
  
"Hey, hey, is it official?" one of the guys calls, slowing down and glancing at our intertwined fingers. "The slut’s got a boyfriend? And he’s a popular guy, too. Wow."  
  
"Fuck off," Kellin mutters, both of us attempting to pass the group with nothing more than a few rude remarks.  
  
"I thought sluts didn’t have boyfriends," the guy continues, standing in front of us and blocking our way. "Who in their right mind would date one of ‘em? They’re just gonna fuck you and leave you hanging." All his friends are surrounding him now.  
  
"This is none of your business," Kellin says, sounding a bit desperate. "Come on. Don’t you have anything better to do?"  
  
"Better than putting whores like you in their place? Not really. You need to be taken down a peg. You think you can just get away with what you do? No. You need to be taught that it’s fucking wrong."  
  
"Okay, you know what?" I snap. " _You’re_  the one that needs to be taken down a peg. This is harassment, yet you’re talking about what’s ‘right’ and what’s ‘wrong’. Just let us do our thing.”  
  
"That pretty little slut’s gonna fuck you over," the second guy says to me, speaking for the first time. "Believe me; I’ve dealt with his type before. He acts all sweet and genuine, but it won’t last, and then we’ll be here to say, ‘We told you so.’"  
  
"Why do you even give a shit about us?" I say. "I don’t care what you have to say about his ‘type’ or whatever. Just leave us the fuck alone."  
  
The two guys exchange glances. Finally, the first one sighs and says, “It wouldn’t be good to draw attention to ourselves out here. Let’s go.”  
  
With that, they start to walk away from us, but not before Kellin turns around and calls, “Hey, wanna know the best part about being a slut? I get to laugh at how tiny all your dicks are!”  
  
I burst into laughter at that, and a few glare at us over their shoulders, but none of them come back over.  
  
"Okay, that was good," I say once we’re in the car. "Although it kind of makes me wonder what you think about my dick."  
  
Kellin laughs. “Oh, don’t worry. Yours is a decent size.” He winks.  
  
"Awesome."  
  
After that, Kellin’s face falls. He lets out a long sigh. “Jesus Christ. I hate those guys.”  
  
"Me, too." I take his hand again. "Don’t let them get to you."  
  
"I won’t." He gives me a small smile. "Thank you. For, uh, sticking up for me."  
  
"No problem." I lean forward and peck him on the lips.  
  
"I wish you didn’t always have to do it, though," he adds. "I’ve been able to stand up for myself before. I guess I just…I don’t know. Some days are better than others when it comes to that."  
  
"That’s okay," I say. I can see him trying not to let this affect him. "Don’t listen to them. I think you’re quite wonderful."  
  
Kellin nods, seeming to calm down a little bit more. “Thank you,” he says again. “Really.”


	15. Kill Me With Words

Things seem to have taken a darker turn on Monday.  
  
Kellin’s moment of weakness must have given his bullies a burst of confidence, and now they’ve taken to teasing him once again. But it’s not just those two anymore; the other people that were with them yesterday are joining in, too. Kellin just ignores them, staying quiet, hiding, running away as soon as he gets the chance. He also sticks close to me and the rest of the guys (plus Tay), stating that he feels safer with us, since we’re fairly popular and nobody ever really fucks with us. Truth be told, I feel better when he’s with us, too. I don’t like thinking about what could happen when he’s alone.  
  
Oli seems to be angry about this, too. We meet up a few times, both alerted at the sight of Kellin being harassed, and actually end up defending him together. “Maybe I misjudged you, Fuentes,” he says to me at one point afterward, nodding in approval. We’re not exactly friends, but I guess I could say that we’re allies against a common enemy.  
  
Throughout the week, Kellin seems to become less and less upbeat. He doesn’t talk as much, and his brilliant smile doesn’t show itself as frequently. He’s even more tired than usual, his eyes red with dark circles around them. All five of us hang out at Tony’s house on Thursday, but Kellin ends up falling asleep on the couch.  
  
"Does anybody know why he’s so goddamn tired?" Mike asks, looking over into the living room with confusion. He’s out in the kitchen, grabbing some chips. Tony and Jaime are sitting on the floor in the living room, arguing over the game we’ve been playing, and I’m sitting on one end of the couch, Kellin’s head in my lap.  
  
"He works pretty late sometimes, and then he has to get up early for school," I say, running my fingers through his hair.  
  
"Yeah, but he’s done that for a while, and I don’t think he was ever as burned out as he is now," Mike points out, walking back into the living room with a bag of chips and sitting down in a lounge chair.  
  
I shrug. “Maybe he’s working even later, then. I don’t know. I know a couple people left, so he has to work more because of that.”  
  
In all honesty, I’m not quite sure why he’s so tired, but I suspect the bullying has something to do with it. For all I know, he could be losing sleep thinking about the terrible things they’ve said to him, though he normally seems to just brush it off with a doesn’t-give-a-fuck attitude.  
  
Then I remember when I woke up in the morning and found him having a nightmare of some sort. Could that be it?  
  
As if on cue, Kellin starts to shift around, making a small noise. At first I think he’s going to settle down, but then he whines and shifts around some more, clumsily grabbing my shirt with one hand and burying his face into it like it’s his only lifeline. I gently hold him in place, whispering, “Shhh, shhh…”  
  
Then he starts muttering things, too quiet to make out words but loud enough to attract attention. Mike turns around and looks at us. “Is he okay?”  
  
I don’t answer him, focusing on getting Kellin to calm down. “It’s okay,” I breathe. “It’s okay. I’m here.”  
  
He gasps, waking with a start, looking up at me with wide eyes. Slowly he seems to become aware of his surroundings, letting go of my shirt and rubbing his eyes. “Fuck.”  
  
"Good morning, Sunshine," Mike calls.  
  
"Fuck off," Kellin groans.  
  
We just sit there for a few moments, Kellin not making any move to get off of me. I don’t mind it, though. “Are you okay?” I ask softly, when no one else is paying much attention to us.  
  
He shrugs. “I guess. Relatively speaking.” He pauses, and then he says, “Can I tell you a secret?”  
  
"Of course," I say immediately. "You can tell me anything."  
  
He sighs. “I didn’t sleep here because I was tired,” he says. “I mean, I  _am_ tired, but that’s not why I fell asleep just now.”  
  
I narrow my eyes at him. “Why, then?”  
  
He gives me such a sad look. “I just…wanted to find a way to get my mind to shut the hell up for a little while.”  
  
I just stare at him, taking everything in: his messy hair, his somber expression, his tired eyes. “You shouldn’t have to feel like that,” I say, running my fingers through his hair again.  
  
"I’m just a worthless little whore," he says, his voice monotone, as if he’s reciting something. "People only like me because they know I’ll give them sex. They know I’m easy. I’m not good at anything else. I’m nothing special. Nobody really gives a shit about me when it comes down to it, but I don’t deserve people who give a shit about me anyways. It’d probably be better if I just—"  
  
I lean down and shut him up with a kiss, though it’s kind of awkward, considering our angles. “Bullshit,” I say when we pull away from each other. “That’s complete and utter bullshit. Know who gives a shit about you? I do.”  
  
He looks up at me for a few seconds, sighing again. “I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s just hard to ignore it sometimes when people won’t stop fucking saying it to you.”  
  
"Don’t listen to them," I say. "Ever."  
  
"I’ll try not to."  
  
—  
  
On Friday, a video leaks.  
  
I don’t know where it came from and I don’t know who took it. All I know is that somehow, it’s gotten out to the public. It’s a video of Kellin’s performance at my birthday party.  
  
"I swear it wasn’t me," Mike says, looking genuinely freaked out. "I might’ve gotten a bit carried away on Sunday, but I’d never go that far, especially not since he really hasn’t done anything wrong yet that could make me hate him enough to do something like this. Fuck no. Who knows what’ll happen to him? Oh my God. This is my fault. Oh my God, I’m so sorry—"  
  
"Mike, it’s fine," I say, holding my hands up. We’re walking down the hallway, switching between first and second period. "You didn’t know this would happen."  
  
"I should’ve seen it coming. He was a surprise stripper at a dude’s birthday party. Somebody was bound to get footage of that."  
  
"Well, regretting it doesn’t make it go away. What we have to do now is make sure nothing bad comes of it."  
  
The whole day is complete shit, a constant string of taunting. Kellin looks like he wants nothing more than to disappear, which is probably true. Now he can’t seem to walk three steps down the hall without someone catcalling, teasing, asking him for a lap dance or a blowjob…it’s sickening. I’ve gotten my fair share of remarks, but nowhere near as bad as him.  
  
I start to get even more worried when he’s not at lunch. I send him a text, and a few seconds later, he replies:  _im in the bathroom. idk how long ill be in here. probs the whole time. srry. dont wanna face all the ppl out there.  
  
Which bathroom? I’ll bring you something,_ I text back.  
  
 _u dont have 2 do that. but its the one near the science labs_  
  
So I get him some food and head off to the bathroom, where I find him sitting down on the floor, his back against the wall and his legs pulled up to his chest. He looks even worse than he did yesterday.  
  
"Hey," he says, his voice quiet and lifeless. "You really didn’t have to do this, you know."  
  
I sit down next to him, handing him the sandwich and chips. “I wanted to. I didn’t want you to not eat.”  
  
"I would’ve eaten something later," he says, but he takes a bite out of the sandwich anyways.  
  
"Well, still." After a moment’s pause, I add, "How are you…y’know…coping?"  
  
He shrugs. “Mostly I’m just waiting for the day to be over so I can go home and cry.” He laughs at himself, but it only sounds like he’s half-joking.  
  
"I’m so sorry you have to deal with all this," I say, kissing him on the cheek. "You deserve better."  
  
He nods slowly. “At least it’s Friday,” he says. “Maybe they’ll forget about it over the weekend.” He seems doubtful, though.  
  
"Of course they will. They’re high school students."  
  
"High school students can be pretty ruthless sometimes," he points out.  
  
"Well, let’s just hope that this is not one of those times."  
  
He rests his head on my shoulder. “How long are you gonna stay here? You should probably get back to everyone.”  
  
"I don’t want to leave you here," I say. "You should come back with me. They won’t go after you with all of us around you."  
  
He stares at me with uncertainty for a few seconds. Finally, he nods, taking my hand and squeezing it tightly. “Okay.”  
  
After a few more minutes, we get up and make our way back to the cafeteria. I can hear Kellin taking deep breaths, as if he’s steeling himself for whatever might happen. When we go through the doors, a few people look up at us, but most of them are too distracted by their conversations to care about whoever might be coming back in. Kellin just ducks his head as we walk over to our table.  
  
"Glad you could make it, Kell," Tay greets, sending him a comforting smile. Kellin nods and smiles back at her, seeming to calm down a little.  
  
The rest of the lunch period is surprisingly peaceful, though I know people are looking at us and talking about us. But nobody ever directly says anything to us, not even the two guys that have been harassing Kellin for a while now.  
  
Things turn back to the way they were once the bell rings, though. We’re all going our separate ways, heading to our own individual classes, which means that Kellin is going to be alone, which means that he’s going to be targeted once again, just like he’s been targeted all day. I just hope he doesn’t take their words too seriously.  
  
—  
  
 _Dude I think something’s really wrong with Kellin._  
  
I get the text from Jaime fairly late that night, but not too late. I reply immediately:  _What do you mean? Did something happen?  
  
I’m at this strip club called the Black Mamba (don’t ask why ok just listen) and he’s there too and he really doesn’t look so hot. He’s supposed to be working but mostly he’s just hiding and drinking at the bar. I’ve been trying to talk to him but he just pushes me away. Maybe you can get through to him. He could hurt himself and I don’t want that to happen._  
  
My heart starts pounding faster as I read his response.  _I’ll be right there._  
  
My panic only rises as I drive to the club. I’m nearly speeding, maneuvering in between cars like a total asshole, but I don’t care. I have to make sure he’s okay. I won’t be able to live with myself if something bad happens to him that I could’ve prevented.  
  
Finally, I reach the Black Mamba, practically sprinting inside. My eyes scan the crowds of people and land on Jaime first; he’s standing by the bar, sweaty but wearing clothes. He probably wanted to make himself look less suspicious for me.  
  
"Hey," I say, rushing up to him. "Jaime, real quick, I just wanna—"  
  
"Wanna know why I’m at a gay strip club?" Jaime asks, raising an eyebrow at me.  
  
"No, I want to say that I know," I admit. "Why you’re here. I’ve been here before. Also, I’m friends with Gerard."  
  
Jaime just looks at me for a few moments. “How…how long have you known?”  
  
I shrug. “A couple weeks. I didn’t really want to tell you because I figured you’d tell me on your own eventually, but now I’m saving you from having to come up with some shitty excuse for why you’re here.”  
  
"And you’re…okay with it?"  
  
I snort. “Dude. I’m dating a stripper. I’ve decided that I don’t really give a shit anymore. Speaking of which,” I add, glancing around, “where is he?”  
  
He sighs. “I don’t know. I lost him. One minute he was at the bar, and then I had a, uh, a client to attend to, and then when I came back, he was gone. I’ve been looking for him, but I haven’t found him yet.”  
  
"Fuck." He could be anywhere, doing anything. "Did you check the bathroom?"  
  
"Yep. Nothing. He could be in there now, though."  
  
"Keep a lookout for him, please," I say. "As best as you can. Thanks for texting me." Before he can respond, I’m off, checking the bar—nothing—and then rushing to the bathroom. Unfortunately, it’s empty.  
  
Fuck, fuck,  _fuck_. One part of my brain is telling me that I should trust Kellin to take care of himself, but the rest of me is telling that part to shut the fuck up because I can’t just sit by and watch this happen. Jaime said he was drinking. I can’t let him go too far.  
  
I’ve started scouring the whole club when a hand grabs me by the shoulder, and I turn around to see a breathless Gerard. “Hey,” he says. “Jaime told me about what’s going on with Kell, and I just saw him leave. Like, leave the club. He just walked out. Looked pretty unsteady, too. I don’t know where he’s going.”  
  
"Thank you," I say. "You’re a lifesaver."  
  
I rush out of the club, whipping my head all around in an attempt to find him and figure out what he’s doing. To my left, I notice him, far away but still within sight, walking (although it’s more like stumbling) down the side of the street.  
  
Fuck. I think I know where he’s headed.  
  
The Black Mamba is right on the outskirts of the city, and this particular road leads out to a fairly busy highway.  
  
I break into a run, but Kellin seems to be moving almost as fast as I am, even in his intoxicated state. Then I see him stop, turning and staring out at the road in front of him as a few cars fly by. He looks like he’s about to fall over at any minute, but still he stands there, contemplating.  
  
"Kellin!" I call, praying that my voice will snap him out of it.  
  
Kellin glances my way, but only for a brief second. A truck is speeding down the road, and he is stepping forward.  
  
“ _Kellin_!” I repeat, grabbing him by the shirt at the very last second and yanking him back onto the side of the road as the car speeds past us, just narrowly missing my boyfriend.  
  
"What the hell was that for?" Kellin demands, his words slurring.  
  
"What do you think you’re doing?" I shoot back, acting angry to hide the fear still coursing through every one of my veins.  
  
"Disposing of myself," Kellin snaps, pushing me away from him. "It’s about damn time anyway."  
  
"Kellin, stop," I plead. "Please."  
  
He shakes his head. “They’re right, all of them. I fuck everything up. I’m worthless. I’ll be doing the world a favor.”  
  
I step forward and wrap my arms around him. He stiffens at my touch, but then he relaxes, resting his head on my shoulder and nearly collapsing into my arms. “Please, Vic,” he continues, but now he sounds less angry and more sad. “Let me do this.”  
  
"No," I say firmly.  
  
He takes a shaky breath. We just stand there for a few moments, holding onto each other, and then he says, “I…I’m sorry for scaring you.”  
  
I run my fingers through his hair once again. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “You’re okay now. Just…try not to do it again.”  
  
"I don’t know what I’m thinking," he says. "I’m not suicidal, not that I know of. I’m just wasted and upset and too damn sensitive for my own fucking good."  
  
"You’re having a weak moment," I tell him, remembering some of the nights I got myself so high I couldn’t tell which way was up because I wanted to die in that moment. "It’s okay. I’ve gotten ‘em, too."  
  
"I just…it feels like all I do is make people’s lives worse," he says. "Even yours." He looks up at me. "Look at you. You’re crying because of me."  
  
Only then do I realize that he’s right: There are a few silent tears making their way down my face. I can’t remember the last time I got so emotional.  
  
"It’s because I care about you," I say, and that’s when it hits me, just how much I really do care about him.  
  
"They say I don’t deserve to be cared about," Kellin says softly. Fuck; now he’s crying, too.  
  
I kiss him on the cheek, where the tears are falling down. “The things they say don’t mean a damn thing,” I tell him, looking him right in the eyes.  
  
He nods slowly. “Okay,” he says, and I can see the decision in his eyes: He’s not going to try to dispose of himself. Not tonight, at least.


	16. Falling for You

After a few more moments of silence as we calm ourselves down, I take Kellin’s hand and lead him back to my car. He nearly trips over his own two feet a few times because he’s so wasted, finally falling into the passenger seat with a sigh. “It’s been a long day,” he says as I start to drive away.  
  
"Tell me about it," I agree.  
  
It’s silent for a few moments, until Kellin says, “I really am sorry. For all that.”  
  
"I know." I reach across and take his hand. "It’s fine."  
  
"It’s not fine. It’s not fine that I got so drunk, and it’s not fine that I scared the shit out of you, and it’s not fine that I’m letting their stupid words get to me, and it’s not fine that I nearly threw myself into oncoming traffic because of that."  
  
I nod, resisting the urge to keep looking at him; I have to focus on the road. “I just don’t want you to get hurt if this keeps up.”  
  
He shakes his head. “The things they say don’t mean a damn thing,” he says, repeating my words back at me and smiling in a way that shows just how intoxicated he is. “I think that’s gonna be my motto from now on,” he says, sounding like he’s starting to drift off. “Thanks for that. Also, thanks for pulling me back. Thanks for being there. I would’ve missed you if I were dead. So…yeah. Thanks…I think I might be a little bit in love with you…wait, what? What am I saying? What are you saying, Kells? I don’t fucking know…” Then I hear him crying again. “What the fuck,” he mumbles. “What the fuck. What the fuck are you doing? Why the fuck are you crying? Fucking weak, fucking pansy, no one gives a fuck about you…”  
  
"I do," I say automatically, squeezing his hand. "I give a fuck about you."  
  
He nods, closing his eyes as the tears continue to slowly and quietly escape. “Oh…okay.”  
  
"Do you want me to drop you off at your house?" I ask.  
  
He shakes his head. “Mom working late tonight…don’t wanna be alone…sorry…”  
  
"Nothing to be sorry for," I reply.  
  
He’s asleep by the time we get back to my house, curled up into a ball, his cheeks still stained with tears. I find myself not wanting to wake him up, so I end up carrying him in bridal style (which, though he’s very light, is quite an awkward position, to say the least). Mike is in the living room, making out on the couch with some blond girl I’ve never seen before, and they both look up at the sound of me stumbling through.  
  
"Whoa," Mike says. "What happened?"  
  
"Emergency," I say quickly. "It’s all good now. Well, relatively speaking."  
  
"Do you need some help?"  
  
I shake my head, though, really, help might be nice. “Nah, I’m good. Just going upstairs.”  
  
The girl raises an eyebrow. “Is this the brother you were telling me about?” she asks Mike.  
  
Mike nods. “That would be the brother.”  
  
"Hi," I say awkwardly, adjusting Kellin’s position in my arms. "I’m Vic. The brother. And you are…?"  
  
"Alysha." She does a little wave. "The girlfriend."  
  
Well, that’s new. “Um, okay. I’d ask when this development occurred, but now’s not exactly the time for small talk, so, uh, I’m gonna skadoodle. Bye.”  
  
Mike and Alysha both laugh so hard they snort as I make my way up the stairs. “ _Skadoodle_?” Alysha repeats.  
  
"Uh, yeah, he’s kinda weird," Mike says. "I understand if you want to break up with me now."  
  
I rush upstairs and into my room, gently setting Kellin down on my bed. He seems to be pretty sound asleep, so I head back down, figuring I might as well answer the inevitable questions about why the hell I was carrying Kellin into the house and up to my room.  
  
Luckily, Mike and Alysha have not yet resumed their make-out session. “Hi, I’m back,” I say, sitting in the nearby lounge chair. “Hit me with your burning questions.”  
  
"Okay," Mike says. "May I ask why you were carrying Kellin? And why he appeared to be either asleep or unconscious?"  
  
"Or dead," Alysha adds. "Also, may I ask who Kellin is?"  
  
"He’s my boyfriend," I explain. "He was drunk, so I helped him, and then he passed out in the car, so I carried him."  
  
Mike just looks at me. “Is that it? Is that all there is to the story? You kinda look like you’ve been…”  
  
He trails off, but I quickly realize what he was going to say:  _crying_. I probably look like I’ve been crying. Fuck. I wonder how obvious it is.  
  
"Uh, yeah, that’s pretty much it," I say. "We, uh, we had some drama pertaining to recent events. We’re good now." I rub my eyes, suddenly feeling tired. "Anyways. I’ll leave now, if you two want to continue sucking each other’s faces off."  
  
Alysha laughs, and Mike flips me off, sending me a warning look. He hates it when I’m around while he’s trying to impress a girl. Before I came out, he was afraid I’d steal them from him. Now he just doesn’t want me to embarrass him.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he says as I stand and head back up the stairs. "Also, Alysha may or may not be staying over tonight. Figured you wouldn’t care, since, y’know, Kellin practically lives here now."  
  
Now it’s my turn to flip him off.  
  
—  
  
The next day, Kellin has a nasty hangover, spending the better part of the morning bent over the toilet. I offer to help him, but he tells me he doesn’t want to be a burden and eventually just asks me to drop him off at his house.  
  
With all this going on, I don’t get a chance to talk to him about what he said last night…about how he might be in love with me. Maybe that’s for the best, though; I’m not quite sure how I’d respond if it ended up being true. What I am sure of is that I don’t want to lose him. I’m sure that I want him to be happy. I’m sure that I care about him more than I thought I would. Even before I knew about his job, it was just an innocent crush for the most part, and I didn’t expect much to ever come of it. Now here I am, remembering the terror that engulfed me when I saw him step out into the street. That terror meant something, just like all the other feelings I’ve been developing for him over the past month.  
  
I’m not sure what to make of it.  
  
I can’t remember the last time I was in love, or maybe I never was. I don’t think I was ever really in love with Beau, even while we dated; I was just in love with his drugs. I was in love with the chemistry we had while we were high. I was in love with the chemicals in my veins and his hands all over my body. I was in love with the beautiful distraction.  
  
Being in love with an actual person, though…I think that’s new. I don’t know what it feels like; I don’t know how to identify it. But if I ever started to fall for Kellin, I can imagine that it would feel something like this.  
  
—  
  
 _Did you ever find Kellin? Gerard told me he left and you went after him.  
  
Yeah I found him,_ I respond to Jaime’s late afternoon text.  _Everything’s good now.  
  
Okay. That’s good._  
  
A few moments later, a second text appears:  _Be honest with me. Do you think Tony and I would ever make it? Like as a couple?_  
  
It catches me a little off-guard—I never knew Jaime thought of Tony that way—but at this point, not much seems to surprise me anymore.  
  
 _Idk, does he even swing that way? He never was too open about his sexuality, not with me at least._  
  
His reply comes in a couple seconds later:  _He told me he doesn’t really care. Like he doesn’t label himself, but basically he doesn’t really have a preference. And yeah. Think I’m in love with him.  
  
Well, you’ve come to the wrong person then. I don’t know much about being in love._  
  
I can just hear his dubious laugh in his next text.  _You kidding me? Have you SEEN the way you look at Kellin? The way you interact with him? You know more than you give yourself credit for. But that’s not really what I’m asking. What I’m asking is, do you think me and Tony would last? Like would it be worth it to take a risk?_  
  
I try not to think about what he’s implying, talking about me and Kellin. _That depends…what risk are you taking?_  
  
This response takes a little longer.  _Well, should you risk being in a relationship even if there are people out there who don’t want you to be in a relationship?_  
  
It sounds kind of weird, the way he’s wording that.  _Ok is something going on? Because if so then I wanna know. But yeah, of course you should. It’s your relationship and nobody can take that away from you. Lots of people don’t like me and Kellin dating (or maybe they just don’t like Kellin in general…) but look at us, still dating.  
  
Ok. Thank you._  
  
With that, the conversation ends. I notice that he avoids answering my question, about whether or not there’s something going on. I’m not sure what to do about that; should I send him another message, or should I leave it alone and let him figure it out? I know Jaime; he’s an independent person, and he doesn’t like asking for help. He’d rather just solve all his problems by himself. It’s pretty interesting, then, that he asked me for advice regarding Tony. I guess it really means a lot to him. Or maybe this is his way of sending me a subtle SOS message.  
  
Now that I’ve successfully used my overthinking skills to throw myself into a mild panic, I send a quick text to Jaime:  _Are you ok?  
  
Yeah, why?_  
  
He says he’s fine, but I should’ve known better than to think that’d just magically alleviate all my fears. I’m still going to be worried, no matter what. Maybe I thought that he’d confess or something. But I know better than that. He’s a stubborn bastard. He’d never willingly admit it unless it was something really, really bad.  
  
So I guess I can now safely assume that whatever it is, it’s not something really, really bad, or else he would’ve admitted it.  
  
 _Just wondering,_  I say in response to his question.  _I thought maybe there was a problem.  
  
Nah there’s no problem other than how to tell Tony that I’m in love with him, haha.  
  
Can’t really help you with that one. Good luck, my friend._  
  
—  
  
"Jaime, Tony, Alysha, and I are all going to a party tonight. Wanna come?"  
  
I look up from the book I’m reading. “Am I gonna end up being the fifth wheel?”  
  
Mike raises an eyebrow. “Last I checked, Jaime and Tony aren’t dating.” I try not to laugh, thinking of my earlier conversation with Jaime. “And even if they were,” he continues, “you deserve it for the way you and Kellin act.”  
  
I shrug, setting the book down and standing up. “Touché. When are you leaving?”  
  
"Any minute now. As soon as Tony gets here."  
  
I snort. “Well, thanks for the heads-up.” I grab a sweatshirt from the closet and pull it over my head. “By the way, where did that Alysha girl come from? I’ve never even heard of her before. Since when are you two dating all of a sudden?”  
  
"She goes to a different school district. Same age as me. I met her at…well, at a party. We’ve been talking and hanging out for a while now. I just never brought it up."  
  
"Why not? You always bring up girls you find attractive."  
  
Mike just shrugs, suddenly not saying anything.  
  
"Oh, no," I say, shaking my head as my mind comes up with a possible reason. "Don’t tell me you’re using her. After all the things you said to Kellin last week, please don’t tell me you’re using her, Mike."  
  
"I’m not using her," Mike snaps defensively. We both know I wouldn’t put it past him, though. He’s done it before, used girls that meant nothing to him to forget about the one girl that actually did mean something. He stopped doing it a while ago, stating that he was disgusted with himself, but there’s always a chance that he’ll turn back.  
  
"I never talked about her because I felt like I was betraying…you know who," he says, sighing. "I felt guilty for feeling something for someone else. I felt guilty for not being sad. I wasn’t sure I wanted to take the risk and, y’know, fall in love again. But I really like Alysha, so…" He shrugs.  
  
Here’s a secret about Mike: Shortly before our dad passed away, his girlfriend, Katie, died of a drug overdose. It’s one of the reasons why he became so angry. It’s one of the reasons why he was so affected by my addiction—it reminded him of her, and he was afraid that I’d suffer the same fate. It’s one of the reasons why he’s so pissed at our mom. “Well, maybe the love of  _my_  life died, too, but I still remembered.” That’s what he said to me on the morning of my birthday. He was referring to the fact that both he and Mom lost the loves of their lives, but only he was able to cope with it enough to remember my birthday. He’s pissed that she shut down when Dad died, while he kept on going even though he lost both Dad and Katie.  
  
"I’m really happy that you two are dating, then," I say. "I’m happy that you’re, y’know, recovering."  
  
"Same goes to you," he replies. He’s referring to the mess I was after I broke up with Beau. Even though I was the one who broke it off, I was still distraught at first; I wasn’t used to being without the sex or drugs that I used to cope.  
  
Now look at us both. We’ve fixed ourselves enough to try again.  
  
We’re interrupted by the honking of a car horn. “Looks like Tony’s here,” Mike says. “Let’s go.”  
  
—  
  
The party isn’t anything special. It’s not bad, necessarily; it’s just a party, with loud music, lots of people, and lots of booze. After about half an hour of hanging out, I’m walking out into the kitchen when I accidentally bump into none other than Tay.  
  
"Oh, hey!" I say, pleasantly surprised. "I didn’t know you were gonna be here tonight."  
  
"Yep, I’m here. And guess who I found while I was busy scoping out the lovely ladies in this joint? Your pretty boyfriend."  
  
I smile at that. “Wow, really? He wasn’t feeling too good this morning.”  
  
She nods. “Yeah, he mentioned that. That’s why he’s staying sober tonight. Said he decided to come here alone just for the hell of it, but then he said he was really glad to see me. You should come hang with us.”  
  
"Absolutely," I say.  
  
"Kellin’s sitting by the stairs. I’ll be there in a couple minutes. I’ve gotta get some food."  
  
Sure enough, Kellin is sitting down on the third stair, looking a lot better than he did earlier. “Hey,” I say, sitting down next to him and greeting him with a kiss on the cheek.  
  
He grins at me and turns his head, kissing me back on the lips. “Oh, wow,” he says. “Pleasant surprise there. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”  
  
"I didn’t, either, until five minutes before we left."  
  
He giggles. It’s amazing how different he is tonight compared to last night. Tonight he seems to be emitting his own light, almost as if he’s glowing.  
  
"Why are you so happy?" I tease, nudging him.  
  
He blushes. “Well, first there was Tay, and she’s great, and then you came over here unannounced…” He shrugs. “It just kind of made my night.”  
  
"Well,  _you_  just kind of made  _my_  night,” I reply smoothly, “so I guess we’re even.”  
  
Kellin just stares at me with wonder, as if he’s a small child. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just…openly admiring how sweet and amazing you are.”  
  
Now my face is starting to heat up. “I’m not either of those things.”  
  
"Are too," he insists, once again, like a small child.  
  
I decide to play along. “Am not.”  
  
"Are too."  
  
"Am not."  
  
"Are too."  
  
"Am not."  
  
This is the extremely intelligent conversation that we’re having when Tay returns to us with some pieces of pizza. “You two sound like five-year-olds,” she comments as she sits down two steps below us. “Why am I friends with you?”  
  
"Because you needed more friends on Team Homo," Kellin replies, "remember?"  
  
She rolls her eyes, laughing. “Oh, yes. That’s right.”  
  
Not long after that, she sets her sights on a girl with light blond hair. “Please be gay,” she says, crossing her fingers. “Please be gay. Please be gay. Please be gay.”  
  
"You’ll never know if you don’t make a move," Kellin says, nudging her with his foot. "Go, you awkward lesbian."  
  
Tay flips him off and stands up. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she says, taking a deep breath and making her way over to the girl.  
  
After a few seconds, Kellin stands up, too, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet. “What is it?” I ask.  
  
"We should go out on the dance floor," he suggests. The "dance floor" is actually the living room, but it’s definitely large enough to be turned into a dance floor, and the host of this party has done a pretty decent job of that. All the furniture is gone or pushed to the wall, music is blaring from speakers in an unknown location, and lights are flashing, making this place feel like some sort of makeshift club.  
  
Kellin pulls me into the small crowd of people. There’s no way we’re going to be slow-dancing to this music, but it doesn’t matter, because Kellin seems to have a better idea. Once we’re near the middle of everyone, surrounded by sweating bodies, he wraps his arms around my neck and kisses me.  
  
I pull him close to me and kiss him back immediately, long and hard, capturing his bottom lip. He starts to move his body against mine, and we break our kiss, starting to grind like many of the other people around us. Kellin pulls me in by my shirt, kissing me again, his tongue working its magic in my mouth. I moan softly as his hands slide underneath my shirt, and then I can’t help myself; I reach around and grab his ass with one hand. His moan is even louder than mine as he grinds himself harder against me.  
  
"Mm," he sighs, pulling away and looking at me with suddenly lust-filled eyes. "I love your little ass fetish."  
  
I flash him a playful smirk, lightly squeezing it again. “Wanna know a secret? Your ass is the only one I’ve got a fetish for.”  
  
He grins. “Even better.”  
  
Then we’re making out again, and our hands are everywhere, and we’re starting to sweat like crazy, and I’d be concerned about this being impolite if it weren’t for the fact that everyone else is pretty much doing the same thing. We’re just two more horny teenagers in a small sea of them.  
  
Eventually, though, Kellin and I decide to escape this mild madness and end up by the wall. We’re just about to continue when Kellin glances to the side and seems to notice something. I follow his gaze, and for a brief moment, we’re both looking in the direction of Oli Sykes.  
  
Oli and I have been on decent terms recently, but that doesn’t mean he’s thrilled to see me. He’s standing over on the other side of the room, watching us silently with his back against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest, a common position for him.  
  
Kellin just looks at him for a few short seconds, seeming as if he’s contemplating something. Then it looks as though he’s made a decision, because he simply flashes me a grin even wider than before and kisses me again.  
  
"Oh my God," I whisper against his lips as we move against each other. I’m definitely getting excited at this point, and I can tell he is, too.  
  
"We could…get away from here, you know," he suggests, raising his eyebrows. "I came alone. We could take my car back to your house. Or mine."  
  
I nod—the sight of Oli has reminded me that anyone could watch us, and I kind of want to just keep Kellin all to myself. “My house. Let’s go.”  
  
I rush around to find someone that I came with, and after only a minute or so, I run into Mike. I quickly tell him where I’ll be and not to wait up for me, and after his joke about me spending too much time with my boyfriend (says the guy who hasn’t left his girlfriend’s side since the party started and refuses to stop making out with her), we’re off, exiting the house and hopping into Kellin’s car.  
  
"I do feel kind of like a douche for abandoning them," I say thoughtfully. "I’ll have to make it up to them later, when I’m less horny."  
  
Kellin snorts.  
  
When we get to my house, the first thing we do is rush upstairs to my room, closing the door behind us even though there’s no one else in the house. Then Kellin practically leaps into my arms, kissing me so hard it knocks my breath away. He wraps his legs around my waist as I hold him up, spinning him around and pinning him against the nearby wall, our lips still locked. His fingers are in my hair, pulling me even closer and deepening the kiss, and I’m moving our bodies together against the wall.  
  
"Holy shit, your  _arms_ ,” he gasps as he pulls away slightly, glancing down at my arms as I continue to hold him up. He gives me a flirty smile. “Have you been working out?”  
  
I just laugh and kiss him again, my tongue slipping in and out of his mouth. Then I spin him around again, walking over and pushing him down onto my bed. He pulls me down on top of him, but our wide grins get in the way of our kissing, so we break it off, me looking down at him and him looking up at me.  
  
"You said something last night," I tell him.  
  
He blinks a few times. “What? What was it?”  
  
I take a deep breath, my heart starting to beat faster at the thought. “You said, um…you said you thought you might be in love with me.”  
  
Kellin just stares at me for the longest time, and I stare back at him intently, waiting for him to respond. “I’m afraid to admit it. How I feel,” he says finally. “I feel like I’ll jinx it if I admit it.”  
  
"You won’t jinx it," I say quickly. By now, my heart is pounding with emotion. "I’ll make sure you won’t jinx it."  
  
He takes a deep breath of his own. “Okay,” he says. “So, like…drunk me likes to say everything that comes to his mind, regardless of what they might mean or whether or not they’re true. Sober me has been thinking about this for some time, and he’s never been completely sure. Drunk me was talking about the things that sober me has been contemplating. But sober me has come to a conclusion, and I’m sober me, and I say that I think I may have begun the process of falling in love with you.”  
  
Now it’s my turn to just stare at him, and it’s his turn to stare back at me nervously as he awaits my reply. After far too long, I ask, “What does it feel like? Falling in love with me?”  
  
He seems surprised by the question, but after a few moments of thinking, he says, slow but with certainty, “It feels more like flying than falling. It feels like I’ve been trying to fly for the longest time, but I could never figure it out, and nobody could teach me, and then you came along and helped me to understand it. It’s finding someone you just click with, just connect with. It’s finding someone who isn’t perfect, but you can look past all the things that aren’t perfect about them and still truly say that you want to hold their hand and kiss them and touch them and make all their pain go away and get to know everything about them; you want to see every part of them—even the old, dusty portions of their brain that haven’t been visited in years; even the deep, dark places that they’d rather keep hidden. You want to know it all. You want to know every single good and bad memory of theirs, and you want to make new memories with them. And after you know all of those things, you still care about them, still trust them, even if their past isn’t completely clean. Because that’s what it is, I think. That’s what makes a good relationship: mutual trust, mutual honesty, mutual respect. It’s finding someone who, put simply, makes you happy. Falling in love is something that can’t be described, and I’ve probably done a really shitty job of it, and I’ve probably completely butchered it, but I think the best possible description for it is the word  _indescribable_. It’s something that you don’t really know until you  _know_.” He takes another deep breath. “Or, at least, that’s how it is for me. It’s probably different depending on the person.”  
  
And he has just described, in almost exact detail, the way I feel about him.  
  
After a few seconds of silence, I say, “Have you ever considered becoming a poet?”  
  
He laughs a little.  
  
"Really, though," I continue. "That was incredible. And if that’s what falling in love feels like, then…then I think we’re falling together. Or flying."  
  
There, I’ve said it. It’s terrifying, but it’s also satisfying, liberating.  
  
With that, Kellin grabs my shirt and kisses me yet again, and I can feel him channeling all his emotion and unrestrained energy into it. I kiss back passionately, and our hands are all over the place, and we’re sighing into each other’s mouth, and all of a sudden, I breathe, “Yes.”  
  
Kellin pauses. “What?”  
  
"Y-yes," I repeat. "The answer is yes."  
  
"Answer to what—?" he starts, but then I can see the realization crossing his face. "Are you sure?"  
  
I nod confidently. I’ve made my decision. “Yes.”  
  
"You’re positive?"  
  
"Well, only if you want to, of course." I softly press my lips against his. "But these lips aren’t saying no."  
  
"Just because they’re not saying no doesn’t mean they’re saying yes," he points out. Then a tiny smile sneaks its way onto his face. "But your lips do seem to be saying yes. And mine say yes, too."  
  
That’s when we reach an agreement.  _Yes._  It’s time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, this will lead to smut; you’ll just have to wait for the next chapter for it. woop. also yes Mike is straight in this fic and yes I added his girlfriend bc they’re cute af and yes I also added Perriado hooray


	17. The Walls Are Caving In

In a flash, we’ve started undressing each other, carelessly throwing each other’s shirts to the floor. Then I begin undoing Kellin’s pants, and he does the same to me, both of us pulling them down, eventually shuffling them off ourselves and adding them to the growing pile of clothes on my bedroom floor. We can’t seem to get them off fast enough.  
  
There’s an obvious bulge in Kellin’s boxers, and I palm him there, smirking a little when he lets out a soft noise of pleasure. “Ugh, just fuck me already,” he sighs, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.  
  
I raise an eyebrow. “Impatient, are we?”  
  
He rests his hand against my crotch and starts to give me a taste of my own medicine, palming me slowly. “Very,” he says, his gaze locking with mine, as I try to refrain from making any sounds.  
  
"Okay, okay." I reach over to my nightstand and search through the drawer, pulling out a condom and a bottle of lube. Kellin grins and pulls my boxers down, and once I get them all the way off, he does the same with his own. We’re both already hard from all the foreplay, starting at the party, and just by the look in his eyes, I can tell that he’s ready.  
  
"I don’t need any prep," he tells me.  
  
As I slip on the condom and coat it with lube, I can’t help but feel a little nervous—he’s had sex with so many guys; what if I don’t live up to his expectations?  
  
As if reading my mind, he flashes me a comforting smile. “Hey, don’t stress,” he says. “This is supposed to be fun.”  
  
I smile back at him as he spreads his legs. I push in carefully, both of us getting used to the feel of each other. He’s so warm and tight around me, and I love it.  
  
"Fuck," he whispers, pulling me down to him and kissing me softly.  
  
I take it slow and sweet at first, fucking him in the most intimate way possible as our hands roam all over each other’s bodies and our tongues slip in and out of each other’s mouths. I rock my hips steadily against his, and he meets my every movement with perfect precision.  
  
"I wanna…wanna ride you," he breathes, his eyes clouded with lust.  
  
I nod, pausing and flipping us around so that he’s on top, still facing me. He wraps his legs around my waist as I shift positions, both of us moaning as I go deeper inside of him.  
  
Kellin tangles his fingers in my hair and kisses my neck as he starts to slowly move up and down on my shaft. I let out another quiet moan as his soft lips nip and lick and suck at my skin—always giving other people pleasure, always making sure that he’s in control, even when I’m the one fucking him.  
  
I’ve decided that I want him to come first.  
  
I thrust upwards, moving a bit faster, and he quickens his pace to match mine, bouncing his perfect body on me. “Ugh, fuck,” I groan as he comes down. “You’re s-so fucking beautiful.”  
  
He moans loudly, kissing me again as he moves. Slightly, I change my angle, both of us gasping into each other’s mouths as I go even deeper inside of him, hitting him right where I want to. He bounces even faster, effortlessly sliding up and down, and I let out a series of low groans—I know I’m getting closer to my climax.  
  
Then Kellin does something a little different and rotates his hips on top of me, and I lean my head back, closing my eyes and groaning a bit louder. I’ve never been too excessively vocal, but I can’t seem to stop making noise because of the effect he’s having on me.  
  
"That’s right," Kellin whispers, his lips just barely brushing against my skin. "You love it, don’t you? You love me riding you like the little slut I am."  
  
"Uh huh." I can’t come up with a better response because of how mesmerized I am as I grab his hips, pulling him up and pushing him back down on me. He digs his nails into the skin of my back and shoulders as I pound into him from below, as he whimpers and whines into all of our kisses.  
  
"Fuck, y-you’re amazing," he gasps. I can tell he’s close, so I reach one hand over and stroke him quickly. He gasps again, moving even faster and attempting to kiss me. I think he’s trying to make me come first, but even though I’m close, I hold back. I want him to feel good for once. I want to make sure that he’s my main priority.  
  
I stroke him faster, applying a little more pressure. “Come for me, Kell. Say my name.”  
  
With that, he’s done for, shaking a little on top of me and coming all over both our stomachs. “Oh m-my God,  _Vic_ ,” he moans, his voice even more high-pitched than usual as he buries his face into my shoulder, biting at the skin there as he starts to come down. “Vic…”  
  
The sound of him sighing my name is what sends me overboard, and then I’m coming, too, slowing down my thrusts and lightly kissing his neck as I ride it out. After a few moments, he climbs off of me, and we clean ourselves up with tissues, which I throw into the trash can along with the condom. Then we get half-dressed, both of us still shirtless.  
  
"Holy fuck, that was amazing," Kellin says breathlessly as he lies down next to me.  
  
I smile at him, feeling my face heat up. “You’re just saying that. You can’t possibly tell me that was the best you’ve ever had.”  
  
He raises his eyebrows at me. “Well, it certainly wasn’t the worst I’ve ever had. Most people I have sex with don’t really care about me like you do. They just use me however they like for their own pleasure, and they don’t care whether or not I happen to find pleasure in it, too. Of course, most of the time I do, but…it just feels a lot better with you. There’s more of a bond, I guess. And some guys have actually left me to finish myself off alone.”  
  
"Holy shit," I say. "Are you serious? They just left you like that?"  
  
He gives me a somewhat amused sort of look. “I can’t believe you’re still surprised by all this.”  
  
"Well, I mean…" I don’t have much of an excuse. I really shouldn’t be surprised by all the things he tells me, but I’m still not all that used to the kind of lifestyle that he lives when it comes to sex.  
  
"There’s one position that I don’t do as often because I’ve discovered that I’m not a huge fan of it," he continues thoughtfully, gazing up at the ceiling. "I don’t really like getting fucked from behind, mostly because I can’t see the other person as well. I like being able to see the other person, ‘cause I like to know what they’re doing." He turns to me. "Want to know a little story?" he asks quietly. "One of the many reasons why I’m so adamant about being in control?"  
  
"Of course," I reply. "You can tell me anything."  
  
He takes a deep breath. “Okay. So. This has happened to me twice, a different guy both times, and both times I was getting fucked from behind. Long story short, I couldn’t see them when they were getting ready to fuck me; I just heard the condom wrapper and heard them putting it on. But these guys, they didn’t use a condom. What they did was, they ripped the wrapper and crinkled the condom and everything when they knew I couldn’t see them, made it sound like they were putting one on, but then they didn’t actually put it on. And I didn’t know about it until after we had sex; they pulled out and I saw they didn’t have one on. I mean, I might’ve noticed a slight difference while we were having sex, but I didn’t really think about it, y’know? And, I don’t know, maybe I was just overreacting, but I felt so violated. I wanted them to use a fucking condom. I consented to sex with a condom. I did not consent to sex  _without_  a condom. I felt like they took advantage of me.” He scowls.  
  
"Oh my God. That’s awful," I say truthfully, shaking my head and resting a hand on his cheek. "I’m so sorry."  
  
He gives me a small smile, putting his hand on top of mine and holding it there. “It’s okay,” he says quietly. “Can’t be changed.”  
  
I lean forward and peck him on the lips. “You deserve better than the way they treat you,” I tell him. “You deserve so much better.”  
  
He nods, his smile growing a little bit wider. “Well, then, it’s a good thing I have you.”  
  
—  
  
I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of waking up next to him. I love the feeling of his body pressed up against mine, his light snoring and his messy hair. It’s starting to register in my mind that we had sex for the first time last night, that there’s no turning back now that I’ve begun falling for him—no matter how hard I may try, I can’t escape that fact, and I don’t think I want to.  
  
After Kellin wakes up, we mostly just hang out in my room, talking about random things and simply enjoying each other’s company. Kellin eventually has to leave, though, and anyways, I should probably get started on that project that I’ve been putting off for the past week for no conceivable reason. At some point, it registers in my mind that I’m hungry, so I head downstairs.  
  
Mike meets me in the kitchen while I’m searching through the pantry. He looks slightly hungover— _great_. “So I heard some interesting things at that party last night,” he says, leaning against the bar.  
  
I turn around and raise an eyebrow at him. “Like what?”  
  
"Like, um…" He sighs, briefly covering his face with one hand before looking at me again. "Okay, I don’t know if this is true—I just heard it from some people—but, uh, people were saying that Kellin’s probably cheating on you."  
  
I stop everything that I’m doing as the words sink in. “He’s…what?” I say, stupidly.  
  
Mike holds his hands up. “I’m not making this up, either, I swear. But, like I said, I don’t know if it’s true. Rumors are rumors. It’s probably nothing. With his bad rep, I bet this happens every time he gets a boyfriend.”  
  
I nod slowly. He’s probably right, but there’s an annoying, nagging voice in my head that says,  _But what if…?_  It’s not that I don’t trust Kellin—if I didn’t, last night wouldn’t have happened. I just can’t help but worry about all the possibilities. I can’t help but wonder and question everything, and though that’s useful sometimes, it can also be irritating and inconvenient.  
  
"What were the people saying?" I ask. "Like, specifically?"  
  
He shrugs. “They said they felt bad for you. They started telling stories about all these guys he’d fucked—a couple of the people I was talking to were exes, I think, or maybe just people he’d had sex with before—and the conversation was kind of hard to follow, but basically, what I got out of it was that they’d associated with him before, and they found that apparently he’s got a few people that he has sex with regularly, and he always chooses them over a boyfriend. Always.”  
  
I just stare at him in disbelief as I turn the words over and over in my head. I don’t want to think of Kellin as a cheater, but the possibility is there, and I don’t think it’s going to be leaving me alone anytime soon.  
  
"Personally, I don’t think you should worry about it until we’ve got some actual evidence instead of just going on the word of a couple drunk guys," Mike says. "I’ll be keeping my guard, though. I’ve got my eyes on him. And if he fucks up…"  
  
"He won’t fuck up," I assure him. I’m not sure whether this is a sign of me trusting Kellin, me simply being stubborn, or me being in denial. "He told me himself that he doesn’t cheat. He wouldn’t. Not after…everything."  
  
Mike just raises his eyebrows at me. “Wouldn’t he?”  
  
—  
  
I don’t want to bring up my suspicions to Kellin—or, rather, it would be better if I don’t. Even if he is cheating on me, he most likely wouldn’t tell me just because I asked nicely. And if he isn’t, he’d only get offended, thinking that I’d trust a couple of drunk-ass guys (whom I never even spoke to; I’ve only heard what Mike has told me) over my own boyfriend. It wouldn’t resolve anything. So I say nothing, letting our text conversations stay on completely random and irrelevant topics, like the probability of alien existence or Chinese food.  
  
The next day, Monday, brings back all the problems that I’ve been trying to forget—things like Kellin possibly cheating on me, things like the kids that harassed him mercilessly on Friday, things like…well, my unfinished project (but that’s a different story). The very moment that I wake up, I get the feeling that today is  _not_  going to be a good day.  
  
Kellin and I usually meet up somewhere in the morning before class, but I can’t find him today (though it’s not uncommon for him to be late, especially on Mondays). I don’t think much of it until one of his main bullies glances over at me when I’m standing at my locker and says, “I’m pretty sure your slutty boyfriend is making out with some other guy right now.”  
  
I turn around and glare at him. “Stay out of my fucking business.”  
  
He holds his hands up. “Whoa. Sorry, man. Just thought you’d wanna know.”  
  
"You don’t even know if he’s with another guy," I say, continuing to dig around in my locker.  
  
He snorts. “Yeah, I do. I just saw them. Well, kind of. I saw two guys go into a supply closet down the hall, and one of ‘em was your little whore. Make of that what you will, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the kinky bitch is getting it on with that other guy right now.”  
  
 _Shut. Up._  I don’t say it, but I think it as he walks away. I just want everyone to be quiet, including the paranoid voice in my head that’s telling me they’re all probably right.  
  
After a few moments, I can’t take it anymore. I slam my locker door shut and rush down the hall. I have to find Kellin. I have to prove that he’s better than that.  
  
There’s only one supply closet down this hallway, and I’m hoping that it’s the one the guy was talking about. Even with all the chaos of high school, I can faintly hear some noises as I stand outside the door, though I can’t tell what the noises are, exactly.  
  
Luckily for me, the door is unlocked, and I push it open, completely unprepared for the sight that I’m greeted with: Kellin backed up against the wall…and Oliver Sykes kissing the shit out of him.  
  
For a few moments, I’m just staring. They don’t seem to have noticed me, or maybe they just don’t care. “Oli,” Kellin whispers, “we should…”  
  
Then his eyes flicker open, his gaze immediately resting on me, and that’s the moment that it all comes crashing down. I just caught my boyfriend cheating on me.  
  
My heart drops down into my stomach, and I’m actually feeling lightheaded, like I’m going to throw up. My mind keeps replaying the sweet memories over and over, pouring salt into the wound. I can’t believe it. I thought I actually meant something to him.  
  
It all makes so much sense now. It explains why Oli always seems so territorial. It explains the night Kellin took me skinny dipping. It explains what the guys at the party apparently said about Kellin having people he fucks regularly, and choosing them over a boyfriend every time. And it’s perfect timing, too—we just had sex for the first time. I just confessed my feelings for him, for fuck’s sake. Of course he’d go back to Oli now that he’s broken down my walls. He knows he’s got control over me like putty in his hands, and he always said he liked being in control. I should have seen the manipulation coming, right from the moment he walked out onto that stage and wished me a happy birthday.  
  
I should have seen it coming, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.  
  
Oli is oblivious, too blinded by his lust to realize what’s going on. “Shhh, babe,” he says quietly, planting kisses all along Kellin’s collarbone and neck and jawline. I can’t help but feel jealous, disgusted. I can’t help but think,  _Hey, that’s my job._  
  
But no. It’s not. Not anymore.  
  
"I…" I can’t form a single coherent sentence to express how I feel, so I just stop trying, instead spinning around and storming out of the closet, hating myself for the tears in my eyes. I can hear Kellin calling my name, telling me it’s not what it looks like (classic, right?), but I don’t listen and simply walk faster. I don’t want to hear any of his excuses. He looked pretty into it when I walked in; he wasn’t pushing Oli away, at least.  
  
I run into Mike a few minutes later, as he’s standing alone by his own locker. “What happened?” he asks, immediately sensing that something’s wrong.  
  
"I—Kellin—we—he—" I take a deep, shaky breath, trying (and failing) to compose myself. A single tear escapes, silently slipping down my cheek, and alarm flashes across Mike’s face at the sight of it. I never cry, especially not in front of him. I’m the older brother. I’m always the strong one.  
  
"Oh, no," he whispers. I think he knows what I’m about to say before I even say it.  
  
"Mike, you were right about him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> right ok so tbh i like to think of this chapter as the chapter where shit starts to gradually hit the fan. there will be bits of peace in between but for the most part the rest of this thing is gonna be an emotional roller-coaster basically until the end of the story and there will probably be points where everyone hates me lmao but i'm aware that you all are going to hate me and i am prepared for it bc i have this whole thing planned out and yeah just thought i'd give u a heads up


	18. Tonight I'm High as a Private Jet

“I’m gonna kill him.”  
  
I sigh, wiping furiously at my eyes. I’ve just told Mike what happened, and now he’s absolutely pissed as we stand alone in front of his locker. In hindsight, maybe talking to him about this was a bad idea.  
  
"No, Mike, please," I say softly. "It’s not worth it. Let’s just forget about it."  
  
He looks at me like I’m crazy, and maybe I am. “Are you serious? You’ve had a crush on this guy for so long. You’ve been dating for a month now. And you just caught him making out with another guy behind your back, and now you’re saying we should just  _forget_  about it?”  
  
I sigh again, running my fingers through my hair. “Mike, please,” I repeat. “Just…please. Don’t do anything stupid.”  
  
"I won’t," he assures me. "I just want to show that little bitch what happens when someone fucks with us."  
  
"Okay, let me rephrase that: Don’t do anything. At all." My voice would be more convincing if it wasn’t shaking so much. "I’m begging you, Mike. Don’t hurt him."  
  
"He hurt you."  
  
I shake my head, covering my face with my hands and breathing deeply. I can’t cry, not here, not now. “Hurting him back won’t change anything,” I say. “What’s done is done. It’s over. I’ll break up with him officially, and then he’ll be out of my life for good.”  
  
"That’s what you said about Beau," he points out, "and he still won’t leave you alone."  
  
"Just…whatever," I say, starting to walk away from him. "I’ll figure it out. You just…try not to murder anyone. Please. For me." With that, I round the corner and slip into the bathroom, which, luckily, seems to be empty.  
  
I glance at my face in the mirror. My eyes are wide and shining with unshed tears, and just by my facial expression and the way I’m breathing, most people would probably say that I’m only seconds away from losing it. I guess that’s an accurate description.  
  
"Fuck," I mutter, sitting down with my back against the nearby wall and burying my face in my hands.  _I will not cry. I will not cry._  
  
The memories just won’t stop fucking replaying, and I think I’d like to wash my brain out with bleach to make me forget everything. On the one hand, there’s disbelief—I can’t believe he faked all of that, the whole time. He couldn’t have, right? But then I remember the things I know about him: I know that English is his best subject. I know he has a way with words. I know he can tell stories effortlessly. I know he has a great understanding of human nature—he probably knows things about me that I don’t even know yet, and he’s used them to his advantage. Is it really that improbable that he used my crush on him to act out a web of lies, and to do it so perfectly? Is it really too much to think that he, with a disposition so naturally seductive and persuasive, could wrap me so tightly around his finger, just to cut me off after I give him what he wants?  
  
I don’t think this means that everything about him is fake, though; I think he does have some real problems. I don’t think the nightmares are fake. I don’t think the near-suicide on Friday night was fake. But I guess his feelings were.  
  
What’s even worse is the fact that he knew. He’s smart. I heard him talking with Mike that one morning; he knew I was afraid of letting him in. He knew I was afraid he’d use me for sex. He knew it, and he completely took advantage of it. He made me start falling for him, made me open up, made me give him what he wanted, and then he did exactly what he promised he wouldn’t do because he knew it would hurt me. I know he also said he wouldn’t have stuck with me for so long if he didn’t like me for me, but that was probably just another lie—it’s not too far-fetched to think that he just enjoys manipulating people. Now that I think about it, I definitely wouldn’t put it past him.  
  
It was bound to happen, and I still fell for it. For him.  
  
I stay there until I manage to calm myself down enough to look semi-decent before finally going out and facing reality. Kellin is trying to text me, but I delete him from my contacts and ignore all his messages, completely turning my phone off for the whole day. He keeps trying to talk to me, though, but I find every excuse to avoid him—I even skip lunch. He can’t get me back. I don’t care if he’s attractive. I don’t care if we just had sex. I don’t care if I have feelings for him. He clearly and explicitly told me that he would not be kissing other guys behind my back, and now I’ve caught him doing exactly that. I have to make sure I don’t get sucked back in again.  
  
Beau must notice the difference in my interactions with Kellin, because after school, he comes up to me with a knowing raised eyebrow and says, “Trouble in paradise?”  
  
I sigh, leaning against the outside wall of the school. “Yeah, tell me about it. If you could even call it paradise anymore.”  
  
Beau makes a face. “Ooh. Ouch. You two broke up, then.”  
  
I fold my arms over my chest. “Not officially, but yeah, basically.”  
  
He nods slowly. “Mind if I ask what caused it?”  
  
"He cheated on me." My tongue moves faster than my brain with that one. For the longest time, I’ve been used to spilling my guts to Beau, telling him all my secrets because I could never deal with them by myself. I guess old habits die hard.  
  
"It’s a shame," Beau says, and strangely, he almost sounds genuine. "I was starting to think that maybe he actually really liked you."  
  
I look away, trying not to think about it. “Yeah,” I say quietly, thinking of all his sweet words, whispered for only the two of us (or so I thought). “Yeah, me too.”  
  
He stares at me for a few moments, and I can see him make a decision. This is when he strikes, like a predator stalking its prey. Actually, he’s more like a scavenger, maybe a vulture of some sort—he doesn’t kill his victims himself; he waits until they’re dead (or close enough) before he feeds on them. And that’s exactly what he’s been doing with me: waiting until I’m close to death, waiting until I’m falling apart again, waiting until I’m weak, to make his move.  
  
I know exactly what he’s doing, and yet, I’m not sure I’m opposed to it.  
  
And that scares the hell out of me.  
  
"So," Beau says slowly, snapping me out of my wild thoughts. "What are you gonna do now?"  
  
I shrug. “I guess I’ll just go back to doing what I normally did before I started dating him.”  
  
"Aren’t you gonna miss it?"  
  
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, trying not to let him get into me, trying not to let him cloud my mind. I know what he’s doing, but there’s still that stupid fucking voice in my head, the one that says,  _What harm could it possibly do?_  
  
I know the answer to that question, but it doesn’t seem to matter.  
  
"I’ll get over it," I say, my voice once again shaking with uncertainty and anxiety and an ache in my chest. "That’s what I did last time."  
  
Beau nods, seemingly understanding. “You look kind of sick,” he points out. “Like, you’re really stressed out, I think. You’ve gotta calm down.”  
  
I play with my hair to distract myself. “Th-that’s easier said than done.” Oh, God, I’m losing it again. Why the fuck am I losing it again? I thought I got it all out of my system earlier.  
  
"I’ve got something that could help you with that," he says, moving slightly closer to me. "You know, if you want it."  
  
In that moment, I want those drugs more than anything else in the world. I need them like I need air; I feel like I’ve been underwater for so long, and they are my oxygen, and I’m so close to drowning that I’m positive my lungs are about to burst.  
  
"I want it," I say softly, desperately. "Do you have anything with you right now?"  
  
"I have some, but there’s a better selection in my car. I could drop you off at your house."  
  
"Good," I say quickly. "The more the merrier. Let’s go."  
  
Beau grins widely and takes my hand. “Glad to be back in business with you.”  
  
As he leads me to his car, I can’t help but remember one night at the Black Mamba, when I almost gave in to Beau, before Kellin stepped in. But this time is different. This time, I don’t have a pretty boyfriend to come in and stop me from destroying myself again.  
  
—  
  
Instead of bringing me back to my house like he originally suggested, Beau takes me over to his, where we mostly just hang out in the basement and get high like we used to. I’ve got homework to do, but I don’t really care. It’s crazy how much I missed those drugs, how relieved I felt when they finally returned to my body like a veteran coming home. I can’t believe I lasted so long without them, but now I can’t help but agree with what Beau has said to me: I can’t escape it. I’ll always need them. Why should I fight something so inevitable?  
  
Mike texts me a bunch of times demanding to know where I am and why I haven’t come home by now. I reply telling him that I went over to a friend’s house and not to look for me because I’d be back home later. That doesn’t seem to work, though, because soon after, he texts me again, asking what friend I could possibly be with.  
  
"Ugh," I complain. I’m lying on my back on the floor, and Beau is sitting up against the nearby wall. "Mike’s so fucking annoying sometimes. Keeps asking me where I am and who I’m with. Who does he think he is, the police?  _I’m_  the older brother here, dammit.”  
  
"Tell him you’re busy shooting a porno and to talk to you later," Beau suggests, laughing at himself. I’ll admit, he’s a lot better when he’s high.  
  
I snort at Mike’s next message. “Now he’s asking me why I keep making so many fuckin’ typos.” Yeah, my hands are a bit shaky and my vision is kind of blurry. So what?  
  
"He’s onto us," Beau proclaims, laughing stupidly. "We’ve gotta evacuate."  
  
I shake my head. “You’re so dumb.”  
  
He flips me off. “Okay, whatever. You dated the slut, though, so you can’t talk about being dumb.”  
  
I make a whining noise, tossing my phone onto the floor next to me. “Shut up, asshole. I’m here because I don’t want to think about it.” I wince at the pain in my head. “I think I’m starting to come down, dude. Give me something. Anything.”  
  
"Coming right up. Something. Anything. Hey, you wanna go out somewhere? It’s probably a lot more exciting than this dump."  
  
I nod—I’m getting tired of staring up at the ceiling, and plus, this place is kind of suffocating me. “Okay, yeah, sure. Where d’you wanna go?”  
  
And then we’re both in the car, and everything feels like it’s back to normal—back when Beau and I were dating, back before I tried to get clean for good (ha!). It’s such a strange thought in my clouded mind—being without this feeling for the rest of my life. How could I live without it? How do people do it?  
  
Of course, deep down I know the answer to that one: They don’t get addicted in the first place.  
  
Beau takes me out to a club I’ve never been to before. From what I can tell, it seems almost as trashy and obscene as the Black Mamba, but without strippers. I don’t really pay attention to it, though; it’s just a whirlwind of bright lights and blaring music, like every other club. I can’t even remember the name of this place.  
  
I don’t know how I end up drinking on top of whatever drugs I’m currently on, but somehow I do, and that’s when it becomes clear just how far from earth I am. I’m so high that I could touch the fucking stars, really.  
  
The entire night Beau and I are socializing, dancing, drinking, and the whole time, I’ve got pills to pop. My head is wild and out of control, I can barely walk, I can’t think straight, everything is all blurry, my skin’s kind of tingly, the world is spinning around me…so many different things are happening at once, and I can hardly keep track of them all. But I’ve built up tolerance, so I don’t stop.  
  
At the moment I’m leaning up against one wall, mostly just trying to steady myself so I don’t fall over, and that’s when I see him across the room: Kellin. And—big surprise—he’s with Oli.  
  
They’re sitting together at one of the tables, along with a couple guys from Oli’s group of friends. I don’t know what they’re doing or what they’re saying, but I think Kellin is looking my way. I can’t read the expression on his face, though—I’m too high to concentrate on that, or anything else, for that matter. I just know that he’s looking somewhere in my direction.  
  
He leans in and says something to Oli, starting to stand up from the table when Oli grabs his hand. For a moment they just stay like that, and I guess something sort of passes between them before Oli roughly pulls Kellin back down in his seat. Kellin simply obeys and smiles at him.  
  
Huh.  
  
I want to dwell on that a little longer, but my mind is already shifting to a different topic, reminding me that Kellin is the last person I want to think about. The image of him and Oli kissing flashes through the haze in my brain, and I push it away, deciding to go figure out where Beau ran off to.  
  
I find him hanging out at the bar, talking to someone I’ve never met before. When he sees me, he turns around and shoots me a wide, lopsided grin. “Hey, Vic,” he says, his words quick and all running together. “I was thinking about leaving soon, taking you back to your house. Unless you want to come over to mine. We can do  _things_.”  
  
"Doesn’t matter to me," I reply, wrapping an arm around him. "I like things.” My own words are fast and kind of jumbled up, I think, but I’m pretty sure he knows what I’m trying to say. He’s used to it.  
  
A few minutes later, we’re both laughing and stumbling out of the club. I suggest getting someone to drive us home, but Beau shrugs it off and says he’ll be able to drive us home safely. Normally I’d object, but I don’t think about it tonight. Beau’s a good driver. It won’t be a big deal.  
  
And, luckily, it isn’t. I mean, we swerve a bit, and maybe we’re speeding, but it’s all good. I feel great. In fact, I feel like I’ve never been better. I feel like I’m on top of the world, and I make sure to let Beau know that.  
  
Somewhere along the way, I decide to lean my head on his shoulder, kissing his neck and just being generally affectionate. Beau laughs. “Is that Molly, making you all lovey-dovey?”  
  
I nod, grinning and switching from kissing to biting. “Oh, yeah. Molly’s always fun.” I giggle.  
  
"You and the slut broke up, right?" he says as he pulls into the driveway of his house.  
  
"What slut? I don’t date sluts." I giggle again. The thought is ridiculous.  
  
He snorts. “That’s what I thought. Let’s go in.”  
  
His parents weren’t there earlier today, and they still aren’t. I’m completely out of it as Beau takes my hand and leads me upstairs, to his room. All sorts of thoughts are going through my head, but I can’t pin any of them down. The only thing I can focus on is the fact that Beau’s body is pressed up against mine now, and that’s the only thing I really need to focus on. There’s a boy named Kellin in the back of my mind, but I’m angry at him, though I can’t really remember why. But it seems to justify having sex with Beau, whatever the reason is.  
  
I don’t think about morals or consequences or any of that when my lips move to form the word “Yes.” I don’t think about anything, really; I’m stoned, intoxicated, nothing but a mess of mixed up thoughts and feelings and actions. Regret is not a possibility that I consider. Relapse is not a possibility that I consider, either. It isn’t even a possibility anymore, though; it’s a reality. I know that somewhere in the depths of my fucked up head, but right now it doesn’t seem to occur to me.  
  
"Yeah, I gave you drugs, baby," Beau whispers against my lips, "but at least I never broke your heart."  
  
That’s the last thing I can clearly remember.


	19. You Used to Lie So Close to Me

I wake up the next morning at Beau’s house, not exactly sure how I got there, and feeling like absolute shit.  
  
The memories start to come to me as I’m puking my guts up in the bathroom. I remember alcohol and pills. I remember Beau’s lips on my neck. I remember Kellin and Oli.  
  
Beau wakes up not long after that, looking rough but not nearly as bad as me. “I think we’re late for school,” he points out, leaning against the bathroom door and watching me as I desperately try to get my shit together.  
  
I groan. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m not really up for school.”  
  
He snorts. “Me neither.”  
  
The morning mostly consists of us doing nothing and me waiting out all my side effects. I don’t stay for long; Beau drives me back to my house, where I basically just lie on the couch and flip through TV channels absentmindedly in a failed attempt at forgetting.  
  
There are about a thousand missed calls and texts from Mike, each one more panicked than the last. I can’t help but feel awful—I’ve done things like this before, and it always scared him to death. So I decide to answer him.  
  
 _Ok that was a shitty move, I know. I’m sorry. I was with Beau all last night and slept over at his house. Feel like shit so that’s why I’m not at school._  
  
His reply comes a few seconds later, even though he’s in class right now:  _I AM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU WHEN I GET HOME_  
  
I sigh. I expected that.  
  
For a while, I just get lost in my thoughts. Part of me is wondering if I’ve technically cheated on Kellin by having sex with Beau last night—at least, I’m pretty sure that’s what happened—since we never really broke up officially. But then I remind myself that it doesn’t matter; he cheated on me. We’re pretty much broken up anyways.  
  
What does it say about me that I waited so long to have sex with Kellin, but thought nothing of having sex with Beau? Is it just the fact that I was stoned, intoxicated? Is it that Kellin means more to me than Beau does? Is it just that Beau and I have had sex before? Or is it that I simply didn’t care because I was—and still am—hurt?  
  
Not wanting to deal with anything, I end up falling asleep at some point, and I wake up to the front door slamming shut. I sit up, rubbing my eyes, and find Mike standing only a few feet away from the couch, his arms crossed over his chest as he glares at me.  
  
"Go ahead," I say, my voice a bit raspy. "Kill me. I’m ready."  
  
He shakes his head. “I just…why the hell did you do it?” he asks angrily. “Why the hell did you relapse?”  
  
I close my eyes. That’s another thing I’ve been trying hard not to think about. “Oh, come on,” I say quietly. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done that before.”  
  
"We’re not talking about me right now."  
  
I sigh. “I just needed something, Mike. I needed to feel okay. Beau was talking to me, and I just felt so shitty, and…I felt like I was going to die without them.”  
  
Mike nods slowly. “I know that feeling,” he says, seeming to calm down a little. “Believe me. I do. But please, please don’t go back to him. I’m begging you. Please don’t do it again. Not after everything. Please don’t let this trip you up.”  
  
"I won’t."  
  
He gives me a hard stare. “You’d better not. I won’t let you.”  
  
He turns around, probably about to head upstairs, when I notice the bruise starting to form on the side of his face, which wasn’t there the last time I saw him.  
  
"Wait," I say slowly. "Mike, why do you have a bruise?"  
  
Mike stops abruptly and turns back around to face me. He says nothing, which is a telltale sign that whatever happened, he doesn’t want me to know about it.  
  
"Oh, no." I shake my head. "What did you do?"  
  
He sighs. “I punched Kellin, so he punched me.”  
  
I don’t know why I’m so surprised. I should’ve known he’d do something. He’s Mike. He’s angry, impulsive, explosive. This is just like him.  
  
"So…what?" I say. "He punched you, and you just let him? And nothing happened after that?" Mike isn’t one to back down easily. If he does something like this, he won’t give up after just one blow.  
  
"Okay, so maybe I did a little bit more than just punch him," he admits, and now he actually sort of sounds like he regrets it.  
  
"Oh my God," I say. "What did you do to him?"  
  
"I didn’t put him in the hospital or anything crazy like that," he says quickly. "I swear. A black eye, a couple cuts and scratches, maybe. Mostly it was just a lot of pushing and shoving before he ran away."  
  
I can’t believe him. “Mike, you’re talking to me about relapse, but you’d better not go back to this. Who you once were. I don’t care how much you hate somebody. Don’t do it.”  
  
He sighs again. “I know. I was just so  _mad_ , Vic. I haven’t felt that mad in ages. To be honest, it was kind of scary, being that person again. And the worst part? I don’t really regret it. I mean, I regret doing that, but I don’t feel bad for Kellin. I hope it hurts.” He scowls.  
  
"Please don’t do it again," I plead. "Not to Kellin, and not to anyone else. Please don’t."  
  
"No promises."  
  
I just stare at him for a few seconds, wondering how everything fell apart so quickly, and all because of a stupid stripper boy. Indirectly, that stupid stripper boy caused my relapse, even though I know that I’m the one who chose to take the drugs, and I’ll own up to it. And now I can see traces of the Mike I’ve wanted to avoid, the Mike from a year ago, the Mike who is brooding and violent and scared all at once. We’ve tried so hard to put our own pieces back together, but now it feels like it’s all just derailing.  
  
All because of one guy.  
  
It’s amazing how easily people can affect one another. It’s amazing…and it’s terrifying.  
  
—  
  
School on Wednesday isn’t much different from school on Monday. I’m in a near-constant daze, and the only thing I’m sure of is that I’m not sure what I’m doing. It’s not that I’m helpless without Kellin, necessarily; it’s just that it feels kind of strange, being back where I started. Except I’m not back where I started. It’s not like I went back in time. Things have changed. Two months ago, I’d only ever had one real boyfriend. Two months ago, I was seventeen years old. Two months ago, I never would’ve thought that I’d ever date a stripper, and I never would’ve thought that that stripper was the deceptively quiet, seemingly innocent Kellin Quinn.  
  
I spend most of my day with Beau; I even eat lunch with him. I’m still ignoring Kellin, which I guess is a pretty shitty move, but I just don’t like thinking about him or having to deal with him. I’ve figured out that that’s generally how I deal with my problems—by running away from them, avoiding them at all costs. There’s nothing left for us to say, really. He has to know that it’s over now.  
  
After school, Beau asks me if I want to go back to his place with him again. As much as I want to do that, I can’t help but remember Mike’s voice in my head, so I tell him that I just want to go home and catch a ride with the rest of the guys. This ride mostly consists of them all scolding me for hanging out with Beau and falling back into old habits. It’s not really an argument, though; it’s more of them just expressing their concerns, which I can understand. I’d be concerned, too.  
  
Jaime is the quietest out of all of them when it comes to discussing what Kellin did. He only adds in a few occasional comments, though it’s still clear that he’s not happy to hear this news.  
  
Mike goes over to Alysha’s house shortly after we’re dropped off, after making me promise not to do anything stupid while he’s gone. I’ve been hanging out alone, doing homework, for maybe an hour when there’s a loud knock on the front door.  
  
I sigh, standing up and heading downstairs. It’s probably some salesperson.  
  
I open the door, ready to tell the potential salesperson that we’re not interested, but it’s not anyone like that. It’s Kellin.  
  
His eye is purple and puffy, his lip is split open, and there are a couple small cuts on his face. His jaw is set, both eyes look bloodshot, and his mouth is a hard, straight line. He’s scowling, glaring, as if I’m the one that betrayed him.  
  
"Stop ignoring me," he says bluntly, pushing past me into the house and closing the door behind him. Then he leans against the nearby wall, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
"I’m not ignoring you," I say automatically, but I know that’s not true.  
  
"Bullshit," Kellin snaps. "That’s complete and total bullshit. Now tell me why you’re ignoring me."  
  
"You know exactly why I’m ignoring you," I snap back.  
  
"I want to hear you say it."  
  
I can’t help but think that under any other circumstance, I’d make a _Twilight_  joke or something, and everything would be lighter, calmer. But not under this circumstance.  
  
"You cheated on me," I say slowly. It still feels so strange to admit it out loud.  
  
Kellin doesn’t deny it. Of course he doesn’t.  
  
"What do you want?" I continue. "Why are you here? What is there to say? Are you here to say you’re sorry? ‘Sorry’ doesn’t change anything. That’s not okay. I’ve been ignoring you because I don’t want anything to do with you anymore."  
  
He sighs, frustratedly pushing his hair out of his face. “Fine. Yes, I came to say I’m sorry. And as pathetic and horrible as it sounds, I came to ask you to…to take me back.”  
  
If anything, that only makes me angrier. “Take you  _back_?” I repeat. “What kind of fucking idiot do you think I am? Do you really think I’m so weak, so stuck on you, that I’d just forgive what you did? Do you really think you’re so irresistible that you can do anything you want and get away with it?”  
  
"I  _don’t_  think I’m irresistible,” he says, his voice cold. “Personally, I actually think I’m quite disgusting, thank you very much, but that’s not what we’re talking about right now. I was going to ask you to try again with me. I was going to apologize and tell you I made a mistake, and I was going to ask you to accept that people make mistakes. But I guess you’re too stubborn for that.”  
  
"I’m not being stubborn," I retort. He’s really pissing me off now. "That hurt, Kellin. I’ll admit it. It’s not something I’m just gonna brush off. I’m not just gonna say, ‘Oh, you made out with some other guy behind my back, but that’s okay.’ It’s not. I’m not gonna forgive something like that so easily. Can’t you see that it was wrong? That it hurt?"  
  
"Yes, I can!" His voice is rising now as he takes a couple steps closer to me. "I  _can_  see that! And that’s why I wanted to fucking apologize!”  
  
"Well, it’s not enough!" My voice is rising, too. "You think I’m gonna take you back just because you said you were sorry? That’s not how it fucking works; not for me, at least. We had a promise, last I checked. You promised me that you wouldn’t do that. You specifically said you wouldn’t do that. How am I supposed to react when I find you doing exactly what you swore you wouldn’t do? And even if I take you back, how the fuck am I supposed to trust you again? You  _knew_  I didn’t trust you! And you knew I’d only have sex with you if I trusted you, and so you got me to fucking trust you! How do you expect me to ever open myself up to you again? How do you expect me not to be afraid that this’ll happen again?”  
  
"I can expect you to trust me again!" he says. "I can expect you to let me make it up to you!"  
  
"Well, you can’t!" At this point, my mouth is moving a bit faster than my brain. "You want to know why you can’t? Because everyone was fucking right about you! Because you did exactly what they all said you’d do!"  
  
I regret the next thing I say before the words even pass my lips.  
  
"Because you’re nothing but a filthy fucking slut!"  
  
Silence. Deafening, suffocating silence.  
  
I know just how much that seemingly harmless four-letter word affects him. I’ve hit a weak spot, and it doesn’t matter how much I might hate him right now—that was too far. I want to take it back as soon as I say it, but I can’t. It’s too late.  
  
Kellin just stares at me for the longest time, his eyes shining. He’s still angry, but he also looks like he’s about to cry. I hate myself for that, but even more, I hate myself for wanting to wipe his tears away.  
  
"I guess you’re right," he says, deadly calm and deadly quiet. "A slut. And not even a pretty slut right now, since your brother fucked up my face. I’m just a slut. That’s all I am. That’s all I’ll ever fucking be."  
  
With that, he turns, just about to storm out of my house when I call, “Wait!”  
  
He glances over his shoulder at me. “What?”  
  
"Just…tell me why," I say softly. "That’s all I want to know. Tell me why you did it. Tell me why I wasn’t enough for you."  
  
He doesn’t say anything, but now he just looks pained. I hate it because I’m starting to feel sympathy for him, and I can’t, not when he hurt me like he did. I think I liked him better when he was angry.  
  
He shakes his head. “It’s over, Vic,” he says gravely. “It doesn’t matter.” Then, without another word, he opens the door and walks right out.  
  
"Wait," I say again, but he doesn’t make any indication that he heard me, so I sigh and close the door behind me, leaning against it and covering my face with my hands. All that did was make me feel even worse, and I guess I deserve it for being so stupid.  
  
It’s only now, in this empty house, that I really feel Kellin’s absence in my life. I miss him. Even if he did hurt me. Even if I do hate him. I miss what we had—or, at least, what I thought we had. I miss our moments of happiness, of sweetness, of bliss. I miss his body snuggled up close to mine in bed.  
  
After a few more minutes of moping and hating myself, I pull my phone out. I’m sort of in a daze, so I don’t even really realize who I’m texting until after I’ve sent the actual message:  _Changed my mind. Can you pick me up?_  
  
Beau’s reply is almost immediate:  _Sure. I’ll take u back to my place._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay yeah that probably pissed everybody off (oops) but this whole ordeal will be explained soon!! very soon!!
> 
> also at this point I’d just like to formally apologize to Beau and Oli for how they’re being portrayed in this fic. I just needed some people to be the assholes okay


	20. The Truth Catches Up With Us Eventually

I just can’t seem to stop myself. Excluding sex, Wednesday plays out like Monday did, and Thursday plays out like Wednesday did. Mike and I are either arguing or completely ignoring each other, and I’m starting to once again drift away from my usual friends to hang out with Beau. He and I aren’t officially dating again, I don’t think; we’re just…I don’t really know what we are. I guess “friends with benefits” would be the most fitting term, but even that feels a bit too permanent, especially considering that even the one time I had sex with him, I wasn’t in my right state of mind. Yes, it’s my fault for getting so drugged up in the first place, but the fact remains that I couldn’t think straight enough to push him away. Whatever it is, though, I know it isn’t good, but I can’t seem to completely break away from it.  
  
I’m slowly wrapping my head around the fact that Kellin and I are over. He’s not trying to contact me anymore, which makes things a little easier, but it’s still hard to accept. I had a crush on him for so long. Then we finally got together, and we had a whirlwind of a relationship, before ending it just like that, barely a month later. It all seemed to go so quickly—one minute we were kissing for the first time; the next, we were having sex; and the next, we were arguing. It all feels so surreal. I almost have to question myself about if any of it actually happened or if it was just some crazy, elaborate dream.  
  
On Friday afternoon, Beau and I go back to his place yet again, but only for an hour or two. That’s when Beau announces that he’s going to take me to a party (whether I like it or not). “Lots of drugs, lots of booze, lots of sex,” he says, ticking things off on his fingers. “Not much different from any other party, but it’s a Friday night. I think it’ll be fun.”  
  
"Yeah," I agree automatically as I’m staring off into space. "Yeah. Sure. It could be fun."  
  
—  
  
Somehow, Beau and I end up intoxicated and making out in one corner of the living room.  
  
I should’ve seen it coming, and maybe that’s why I decided to come with him. I’ve already become a victim to sweet distractions once again, and the thing is, I don’t really care. I’ve accepted it. It should scare me that I’ve accepted it, but I don’t seem to care about that, either.  
  
So, yeah, this is happening. Beau is being surprisingly forward and public; then again, he never really was one to be subtle. It just seems kind of odd, the way he’s acting around me, the way he’s kissing and touching me. It’s almost possessive. Does he think he got me back or something? I guess I can’t really blame him if he does; I haven’t exactly been pushing him away, as much as I know I should. I’ll admit that it’s a bit uncomfortable, though, but I don’t know how to tell him to stop.  
  
"Hey," he says as if reading my mind, pulling away slowly and gazing at me with clouded eyes and a lopsided smile. "I’m gonna go get another drink, okay? Do you want something?"  
  
"Uh, sure," I say thankfully. "Whatever you’re getting."  
  
He nods, and then he’s off. I take this opportunity to glance around the room—it’s just a casual action, but in that first brief glimpse, I catch sight of an achingly familiar person. Who happens to be even more smashed than I am.  
  
I’m not quite sure what he’s doing, but it’s clear that he’s been watching me and Beau, and from the way he’s staring at me forlornly, it’s clear that he’s not too happy about it.  
  
 _Sorry, Kellin,_  I think.  _But you fucked up._  I mean, I guess I’ve fucked up, too, but my fucking up was a domino effect of him fucking up. Or something.  
  
I think I need another drink.  
  
He watches me for a few more moments, both of us locking eyes and not bothering to look away. Then he gets up and makes his way over to me, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. I want to walk away, but my body doesn’t respond to my mind fast enough.  
  
"I need…to talk to you," he says, his words all slurred. He looks like he’s about to fall over.  
  
"No," I say firmly. "We’ve already talked. Sorry. Bye."  
  
"We haven’t talked about  _this_ ,” Kellin says, grabbing me by the shirt and dragging me across the room. Strangely, I find myself not protesting as he leads me upstairs and into an empty bedroom. He closes the door behind us, and then he bursts into drunken tears.  
  
"Whoa, whoa," I say without thinking, naturally wanting to comfort him and make him feel better. I take a step forward. "Talked about what? What happened?"  
  
Kellin grabs both my wrists and holds them tightly, once again looking right into my eyes. “It w-wasn’t my fault, Vic, you’ve gotta understand that.”  
  
"What wasn’t your fault?" I ask. I already have a bit of an idea, but I need him to elaborate.  
  
He takes a deep, shaky breath. “I’m their whore, Vic,” he says. “They say I’m not allowed to t-tell anyone, but I just can’t take it anymore. I miss you so fucking much. I h-hate that you hate me.”  
  
My heart is beating faster as I try to piece together what he’s saying. “Okay, hold up,” I say, trying to make my voice sound calm. He’s not steady on his feet, so I have to sort of hold him up. “Who are you talking about? Who’s ‘they’, Kell?”  
  
"Oli, Matt, that whole group…" He shakes his head. "Fuck. No. No no no no no. Forget I said anything. You—you heard nothing. I’m dumb. I’m wasted. I don’t know what I’m saying. Oh my God, they’re gonna find out I told you somehow, and they’re gonna…oh, God, they’re gonna…" His breathing is getting faster and faster, almost as if he’s hyperventilating.  
  
"Shhh, shhh, it’s okay," I say soothingly, wiping the tears away from his face. I’m starting to panic a little, too, but I can’t let him know that. "They’re not gonna do anything to you. Just—tell me what you mean when you say you’re their whore."  
  
He takes another deep breath. “They own me,” he says finally. “Me, and Jaime, and a couple of other guys…we’re all theirs, under every single circumstance. They just…just have a lot of sex with us, but they’re so possessive, and we’re all sworn to secrecy no matter what. They hate us getting in relationships with other people. They expect us to keep having sex with them behind our partners’ backs. Jaime told me he mentioned being in love with Tony—is that right? He told you about that? And about wanting to take a risk? He was talking about that. He—he was talking about going against them by dating Tony.” I notice his breathing starts to quicken again. “But I already  _tried_  that, damn it! I tried it with you! Because I was in love with you, and I still am, and I tried to tell them that I didn’t wanna do anything with them while I was with you because it felt wrong, and I promised you I wouldn’t…they called me disloyal for going against them and making a promise I knew I couldn’t keep…”  
  
I don’t know what to say or how to comfort him. I’m still reeling from everything that he’s telling me. Oli and his friends, all… _owning_  him. And not just him; Jaime, too. It explains everything. It explains why Oli is so possessive when it comes to Kellin. It explains the entire night when we went skinny dipping in Matt’s pool—the way they all treated him, as if he was a toy, an object, a plaything. They treated him like something they could have their way with because that’s exactly what he is to them.  
  
It explains why I found Oli making out with him on Monday.  
  
"I’m so sorry," he sobs. "I should’ve told you right from the start. I should’ve never even gotten involved with you in the first place. I’m so stupid. I’m the favorite. I know I am. They’re not gonna let me go, least of all for someone like you. And they probably won’t let Jaime go, either. I just…" He takes yet another deep breath, but it doesn’t seem to help much. "I’m so sorry for what you saw on Monday. Oli likes to…mark his territory. I didn’t really want to do it—I might’ve enjoyed it at first, but not much anymore—but, I mean, it’s not like I’ve got much of a choice. But that’s how it works. And I’m—I’m okay with that. Or, at least, I was. Before you." He lets go of me with one hand and tries to wipe his tears away, which only results in him nearly falling over.  
  
I grab his wrist and pull him back up. I’m trying to find words, but I’m still so stunned. “I…”  
  
"They’ve been getting worse since we started dating," he continues. "They hate you f-for taking me from them. They don’t understand why…why I like you so much. They’ve—they’ve been trying to have sex with me every chance they get, and I always felt so fucking horrible afterward because I wanted to be good to you…but I wasn’t. I was awful, and I hate them for that. They never take ‘no’ for an answer, and they always find a way to convince me that it’s not so bad…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have kept this from you. I know you think I’m just a filthy slut, and this probably only makes it worse. You don’t have to forgive me…but now you know."  
  
"Kellin," I say softly, still trying to come to terms with what he’s telling me. It might not even be the truth. He could just be confusing facts in his drunken state. He could even be making it all up, though people who are wasted generally aren’t the best liars, I don’t think. More likely, they just tell it like it is, say exactly what’s on their mind. Which means that Kellin is probably doing just that—saying what he’s thinking. The truth. I don’t know how to feel, and I don’t know what to do.  
  
At that moment, Kellin’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He groans and pulls away from me, leaning against the nearby wall and taking it out. “Fuck,” he says, his breathing starting to quicken again. “Oli’s texting me. Oh, f-fuck. He wants to know where I am—he’s here, too. Fuck, he can’t know I’ve been talking to you, oh my God…”  
  
I rush over to him and rest both my hands against his cheeks, brushing his tears away with my thumbs. “Shhh,” I say, forcing him to look at me. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. You don’t have to—”  
  
"Yes, I do," he interrupts, pushing me away suddenly and unsteadily making his way to the door. "Sorry."  
  
"Kellin!" I call, but it’s too late—like he proved on the night he tried to off himself, he’s fast, even when he’s wasted. I follow him through the hall and down the stairs, but from there, it’s harder to figure out where he could’ve gone. People are everywhere, and Kellin is small, able to blend in easily while quickly maneuvering through the crowd.  
  
I’m about to continue my searching when I realize that he’s probably going back to Oli. He’s not supposed to be talking to me, apparently, and if I chase after him, I could get him into even bigger trouble, whatever that might mean.  
  
That being said, I don’t like the idea of just giving up, so I keep looking. I even ask a few people if they’ve seen him, describing what he looks like and how he might act, but nobody really seems to know who I’m talking about.  
  
To be quite honest, if what he just told me is the truth, then I think I can forgive him, make up with him—maybe even get back together with him, though I’m thinking sort of far ahead with that one. He was right—it really wasn’t all his fault. Yes, maybe it would’ve been better if he had just told me about this in the first place, but I can understand why he didn’t. It’s a pretty big secret, and it seems as though he’s almost being threatened to keep his mouth shut. It explains why he always seemed so tired and distraught while we were dating. It explains what he said that one night at the Black Mamba, about being “in a conflict with some people.” If those tears are anything to go by, he really does feel terrible that I had to find out about Oli by seeing it firsthand. Now that I think about it, even though Kellin wasn’t pushing Oli away, he didn’t really seem to be enjoying it, either. I can distinctly remember, even before now, that it was Oli doing most of the work, pushing him up against the wall, kissing his neck and jawline…I didn’t even consider that it could be a one-sided desire.  
  
Just as I’m about to give up my search, a hand grabs my shoulder, and I spin around to see none other than Beau Bokan.  
  
"Vic!" he says. "I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Where’d you go, man?"  
  
Fuck. I completely forgot about him. “Uh, someone dragged me somewhere,” I say vaguely. Hopefully, he’s drunk enough that he’ll just accept it. “Sorry.”  
  
"Uh, okay, whatever," he says. "Anyways, you about ready to leave?"  
  
"Um." I still want to find Kellin and make sure that he’s okay, but I’m not sure how to tell him that. "Can I get a few more minutes?"  
  
He raises an eyebrow at me. “Uh, sure,” he says slowly.  
  
"Thanks." With that, I’m off again, searching even more frantically. At this point, they’ve probably left already, but I can’t give up. I want to text him, but if he’s with Oli, that might not go down well. I’m not too particularly scared of Oli, but Kellin seems to be—or, if not scared, then at least intimidated. Even now, all I want to do is protect him. I don’t want to put him in a position that could lead to something bad happening to him.  
  
About five minutes later, Beau finds me again, insisting that we should go because he’s got something better planned, apparently. I’ve gone through the whole house a hundred times, and I’m coming up empty. I sigh. “Okay, we can go,” I say reluctantly. “But can you just drop me off at my house? I’m not really feeling it tonight.”  
  
Beau gives me an odd look, but then he just shrugs. “Whatever.”  
  
He’d probably try so much harder to get me to come back to his place if Kellin and I were still dating, because then he’d have competition. Now, though—now it’s as if he thinks he’s already gotten me back.  
  
And I don’t like it at all.  
  
—  
  
Kellin and I are kissing.  
  
I don’t remember how or why it happened; all I know is that we’re on my bed together, Kellin on my lap with his legs wrapped around my waist, and I’m holding on so tightly to his hips, and his hands are in my hair, and he’s moaning into my mouth, and we are kissing with everything we’ve got.  
  
Then the door swings open, and Kellin pulls away, immediately climbing off of me. Oli walks in, staring at me for a brief second before pulling Kellin in by his shirt and kissing him.  
  
I want to say something or do something, but I’m paralyzed, completely unable to do anything but watch them. Oli is touching him everywhere, and he’s just complying. Then Oli pulls away to look at me, smiling a little. “Why do you look so upset, Fuentes? He’s just a filthy fucking slut, right?”  
  
My eyes fly open, and for a few moments, I’m disoriented. I’m still in my bedroom, still in my bed, but Kellin and Oli are nowhere to be found. It was a dream.  
  
"Fucking hell," I mutter to myself, and then the worry sets in. What happened to him last night, after he ran away from me? Did he get home safely? Is he okay?  
  
I send him a quick text simply asking that last question, hoping that he’s fine by now. After over an hour, though, he still hasn’t responded. He doesn’t even seem to have read the message, according to my phone. I tell myself that he’s probably just sleeping, but it’s pretty late; he usually doesn’t sleep in this long, from what I know and what I’ve seen.  
  
I’m tired and I don’t feel great, but that doesn’t stop me when I decide to go over to his house. Maybe then I can talk to him and apologize for the things I said on Wednesday. I really do feel bad, especially about calling him a slut. It’s just one little word, but a single word can hold a lot of meaning for someone, and not always in a good way.  
  
I feel kind of awkward as I park the car and head up to the front door—I’ve only been here a couple of times, and I’ve never actually been inside. I knock cautiously, and after a few seconds, I hear footsteps. Then Kellin’s mom opens the door.  
  
"Hello," she says, looking kind but somewhat confused. "How can I help you?"  
  
I can understand why she’d be confused—she and I have never officially met. “Uh, I’m Vic,” I say, holding my hand out for her to shake.  
  
"Oh, hi, Vic!" she says pleasantly, smiling at me. "Kellin’s told me a bit about you." She narrows her eyes. "Speaking of which, where is he?"  
  
I bite my lip. “Um, that’s kind of why I’m here. I thought…well, I thought he’d be here.”  
  
She shakes her head. “He isn’t. In fact, I thought he was with you.”  
  
"He’s not." I can feel a sense of dread coming over me.  _Fuck._


	21. Interlude II: I Miss You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the second Interlude, which means it will be in Kellin’s POV. but it sort of goes back in time (it takes place on the night of the party in Chapter 18, instead of the morning after, where Chapter 18 left off), so you might be a bit confused by the end because of the weird gap. don’t worry, the whole thing will be explained eventually.

Let’s rewind for a moment here.  
  
It’s Friday, the night of the party. I’ve just confessed everything about Oli to Vic, and now I’m pushing through the crowds of people, heart pounding, lungs burning, chest heaving, eyes blurring, head spinning. I think maybe I’ve had too much to drink, but I don’t really dwell on that. I’m too busy searching for Oli, nearly getting sick to the stomach at the thought of him possibly finding out that I snitched. Maybe I can blame the alcohol.  
  
Who am I kidding? I’ve gotten in trouble for less.  
  
I really hope Vic doesn’t chase after me. That’ll just make things worse. They don’t like me hanging out with him, and they’d especially hate it now that we’re no longer dating. They’d say, “What, aren’t we enough for you? You really are a slut. He doesn’t like sluts, remember?”  
  
And then I’d have to once again convince them that, yes, they are enough for me, and then I’d have to let them have their way with me just like I always do. It’s not that bad once you get used to it. I used to think it was fun, actually. I liked getting banged by them all the time. But that was before I started wanting a different kind of long-term relationship, one that wasn’t purely sexual. They’ve always been fine with me doing my job, and they’ve also been okay with my one-night stands. They—specifically Oli—have only ever gotten upset over other long-term relationships. Which is why they hate Vic.  
  
I find Oli in a dark, secluded corner of the basement. “Hey,” I say breathlessly, leaning up against the wall next to him. “I’m here now.”  
  
"Good." He grabs my hand roughly. "Is your house empty?"  
  
"Uh, yeah," I say slowly, only half-aware of what’s going on around me. "Mom works really late most nights."  
  
"Okay. Let’s go." With that, he’s leading me upstairs, and before I can even think to protest, we’re in the car and driving off to my house.  
  
"Where were you, Kell?" he asks casually. "I leave for one minute, and you’re gone."  
  
"I—I saw a friend," I say. "We just started talking." I guess it’s not really a lie.  
  
He nods, and that’s the end of the conversation. We’re mostly silent for the remainder of the short ride, but I can’t stop thinking about Vic. I can’t stop thinking about his lips on mine, the sweet gestures, the words he whispered to me. I can’t stop thinking about our argument on Wednesday and his coldness toward me. I keep wondering what he must think of me now. These thoughts come in drunken waves, and I don’t know how to stop them.  
  
By the time we get to my house, I’m not crying again, but I think I’m close to it. I keep blinking furiously, covering my mouth with my hand and breathing deeply. Oli takes my free hand and leads me up to the front door, using my key to get inside and then heading back the hallway to my room.  
  
It’s only then that he turns to me and asks, “What’s wrong, babe?”  
  
That just makes it even harder. I want Vic to be calling me that.  
  
My mouth moves faster than my mind. “Vic,” I whimper pathetically, lying down on my bed and staring up at the ceiling. “I miss him.”  
  
He just stares at me for a few moments. I don’t know what he’s thinking, and I’m not sure I want to. “Well, sorry to say, but I don’t think he misses you,” he says finally.  
  
I choke back a sob. “I know.”  
  
"I knew it wasn’t gonna last," he continues. "Guys like him never stay for long. It’s just the way things are with you, Kell. I’m the only one who will ever truly accept you, no matter what."  
  
I turn my head to look at him as he’s standing at the edge of the bed. I guess he’s right. “He called me a slut the other day,” I say, curling myself up into the fetal position on my side as I remember the way that word ripped me apart.  
  
"Everyone calls you a slut," Oli points out. "I thought you liked it."  
  
"It was different," I say. "He meant it to hurt me." I close my eyes. "But I still miss him."  
  
"Why?" Oli asks. "He’s obviously an asshole."  
  
"He’s not," I say desperately. "He thought I cheated on him, and lied to him, and took advantage of him…he was so angry. And he had a right to be."  
  
"You need to forget about him," Oli says bluntly. No more sympathy for me.  
  
I open my eyes and just look at him. “I can’t,” I say, dumbly. I can’t think straight; I just keep rambling, spilling my guts. And Oli doesn’t seem too happy with what he’s hearing.  
  
"Well, you will." And then he’s on the bed, climbing on top of me and pinning me down, even though I was already in this position. His demeanor has gone from calm and vaguely comforting to possessive and dangerous. "I’ll make you forget about him, whore," he whispers, pulling roughly at my hair.  
  
I know what this means. I know what he’s getting at. He doesn’t like me talking about Vic at all. It seems that I’ve been a bad little slut, and now he’s going to punish me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see? confusion!! “but wait, at the end of Chapter 18 Kellin isn’t at his house anymore, where did he go??” I can’t tell you yet. ha.


	22. Find You

Kellin’s mother and I call him a total of twenty-seven times before we give up and accept that he’s not answering. We’ve used both her number and mine, but it seems that either his phone is off, he doesn’t have it with him, or he’s ignoring everybody. I’ve tried texting him again, but that also doesn’t seem to do anything. We’ve also checked the entire rest of house, just in case, for some weird reason, he might be hiding under his bed or something. He isn’t.  
  
I have an idea of where he might be (or who he might be with), considering what happened last night, but I don’t want to accept it. It’s as if I think that by not acknowledging it, I can convince myself that none of it exists or that it will all go away. If Kellin were here right now and listening to my thoughts, he’d probably tell me something about infants’ mentality and their lack of object permanence. Obviously, I know that objects still exist even if I can’t see or hear them, but in an odd sort of way, it’s the same general concept. It’s as if I think that my problems don’t exist if I don’t actively acknowledge them. But they do, and until I actually fix them, they always will.  
  
Kellin’s mom thinks that he’ll turn up eventually, and though I can tell she’s worried, she doesn’t really seem as concerned as she should be. This seems like something she should be borderline panicking over. Or maybe that’s just because  _I’m_  borderline panicking over it. Maybe he does this often. Maybe she’s used to it. She doesn’t know what I know, either, I don’t think. I mean, she’s aware that her son is a stripper (it’s strange that she’s so casual about it—wouldn’t most mothers be freaked out by something like that?), but does she know what kind of relationships he’s caught up in (apparently)? Does she know how much he gets harassed and taken advantage of? Does she know that he nearly killed himself? I don’t think she does, and with an ordeal like last night, I’m not ruling out any possibilities, no matter how terrifying they may be.  
  
"I’m gonna keep looking," I tell her, standing up from the couch in the small living room and making my way over to the front door. "He’ll probably come back eventually, but…I just want to keep looking."  
  
I send one last glance over my shoulder, and that’s when I notice the drugs nestled away in the corner of the kitchen counter. I look back at Kellin’s mom, taking note of her paleness, her tired and bloodshot eyes, her lack of focus or concern. I know what that’s like, and I can’t help but feel a little bit sorry for her.  
  
Without another word, I step back outside and hop into my car, taking deep breaths and telling myself that this isn’t something to get worked up over. Of course, anyone who knows me knows that I get worked up over a lot of things, especially if those things involve the safety of people I care about.  
  
I do my best to think rationally. It’s around noon by now, and I know that when Kellin sleeps over at someone else’s house, he usually doesn’t like to stay over the next morning past ten or eleven, at the very latest. This means that if he slept over somewhere, he’s most likely not there anymore. If he’s not at someone else’s house or his own, then the only other place I can think of is one of the clubs. It’s kind of an odd time of day to be there, but I wouldn’t put it past him, so I head off to Lester’s without another thought.  
  
This is at least the third time that I’ve gone around clubs searching for Kellin. It’s kind of funny, actually, but I’m not laughing. Not right now.  
  
There are quite a few people in here, but it’s nowhere near as crowded as it usually is. Frank isn’t at the bar; if he’s working tonight, his shift probably doesn’t start until later. Instead, the bartender is a young blond girl, smiling and talking to none other than Tay, who is sitting on one of the barstools. The blond girl, I quickly realize, is the same one from the party I went to on the night Kellin and I had sex—she’s the girl Tay had had her eye on.  
  
"Hey," I say, not bothering to sit down. "Didn’t expect to see you here."  
  
"I’m here for this lovely lady," Tay says, nodding at the blond bartender. "Jenna, this is my friend Vic."  
  
The girl, Jenna, waves. “Hi,” she says. “I’m here because I work here. And I work here because the pay is good, Phil isn’t an asshole, and men are less likely to harass me if they’re too busy making out with each other.”  
  
"Nice," I say, smiling briefly. "Hey, have you seen Kell lately? One of the strippers? Dark hair, kind of feminine, nice ass?" I can’t help adding that last bit in, as a desperate sort of attempt at humor (mostly for my own benefit, because I’m freaking the fuck out).  
  
Jenna snorts. “Oh, I know who Kell is. But, no, I haven’t seen him. Why? Did you think he’d be here?”  
  
I nod. “Yeah, he—”  
  
"Wait, wait, back it up," Tay interrupts, staring at me in confusion. "Why do you care? After what he did, I thought you, like, hated him."  
  
"Something happened last night," I explain vaguely. "I don’t know where he is—he hasn’t been with me, and he’s not at his house—and I just want to know where he is."  
  
Jenna raises her hand like she’s in school. “I’m very confused,” she states plainly. “What’s going on with Kell here? And how do you even know him?”  
  
"Friend of ours," I say quickly. "My ex-boyfriend. Long story. Do you think he’d be at the Black Mamba?"  
  
Jenna shrugs. “I doubt it, but you can check.”  
  
"Okay," I say curtly. "Thanks. Sorry I can’t chat much. He’s not answering his phone, and I don’t know where he is, and I just—I have to—"  
  
Tay nods in understanding. “Go,” she says. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I’ll keep an eye out for him.”  
  
I simply nod in thanks, and then I’m off.  
  
The Black Mamba search is a lot faster and less exciting. I don’t know anybody there, and most of the people don’t seem friendly. I do a thorough sweep of the place and even stop to ask a few people if they’ve seen him. Of course, nobody seems to know who I’m talking about, or if they do, they don’t know where he is. I guess it was kind of dumb to think that he might be at one of these clubs in the middle of the day, but I’m running out of places to look. Or maybe I’m just trying to find an excuse to not go searching for Oliver Sykes.  
  
I don’t want to believe that Kellin could be with him for that long, but it’s definitely a possibility, and it’s one I can’t ignore. The only problem is that I don’t know where Oli would usually be. I don’t know where he lives, and I also don’t know where he or his friends normally hang out.  
  
Then, a thought comes to me: I  _do_  know where Matt Nicholls lives.  
  
He’s the one with the nice house and the indoor pool, where we went when Kellin took me skinny dipping. I don’t know the exact address, but I know it’s not that far away, and I could probably find it fairly easily just by memory. It’s the next best thing.  
  
I’m starting to give up on him at this point, but I have to check with Oli and his group. That’s probably where he is, though I kind of hope it’s not. But I’m not sure where else he would be.  
  
Sure enough, from where I’m at, the drive only takes about ten minutes (because everything is within a twenty-minute drive around here). I feel weird just popping up at this guy’s house when I barely even know him, but I’m desperate. I keep calling and texting Kellin just in case, but there’s still nothing. I’m starting to think that something really bad might’ve happened to him. For all I know, he could be dead.  
  
With a deep breath, I hop out of the car and head up to the front porch, knocking on the door. A few moments later, one of the guys answers, though I’m not sure which one.  
  
"Vic?" he says. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I want to know where Kellin is," I say bluntly, pushing past him into the house. Normally I’m not this rude or forward, but I’m not interested in being polite with any of these guys.  
  
The rest of the guys are hanging out in the living room, some obviously high, some less so. They don’t seem to be doing anything else in particular besides talking and sharing a joint. “I still can’t believe that little shit fucked up our slut’s pretty face,” one of them is saying. “I always knew it would end badly if he started hanging with the Fuentes kids.”  
  
"Yeah, really," another agrees. "One of them’s a druggie turned Goody Two-Shoes, and the other has major anger issues."  
  
I cross my arms over my chest, clearing my throat loudly. “You were saying?”  
  
The guys all turn to me with varying degrees of surprise and guilt crossing their faces. The one who answered the door pops up behind me, staring at me in mild shock.  
  
"Hi," I say coldly. "I’d like to know where Kellin is and why the hell he’s not answering his phone."  
  
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," one of them says. "He’s not here."  
  
I turn my gaze to Oli, whose expression I can’t read as he looks at me. “He was with you last night,” I say. “What the hell happened?”  
  
"Nothing!" Oli says defensively. "Why do you even care, huh? Thought you hated him." He smirks at me. I’d like to push him off a cliff.  
  
"I just—I need to find him, okay?" I snap. "Tell me where he is."  
  
He holds his hands up. “I already told you, I don’t know!”  
  
It occurs to me that he could be telling the truth, but all of a sudden, I’m so fucking angry that I don’t care. Just looking at them is making me sick to my stomach.  
  
Matt stands up. “Okay, hold it,” he says calmly. “Let’s go outside for a moment, talk privately.” He turns to the rest of the group. “I’m gonna try to talk some sense into him.”  
  
The rest of the guys make vague noises of response. I open my mouth to protest, but something about the way Matt is looking at me stops me from saying anything. Reluctantly, I let him lead me outside, onto the front porch. When he closes the door, he sighs and turns to me.  
  
"I’m not sure exactly what’s going on between you two," he says, "but I think Kellin might be at the bridge."  
  
I narrow my eyes. “What bridge? Do you mean, like, a tiny one that goes across a creek, or do you mean the one right over the river?” My stomach flips at the thought of the second one.  
  
He nods grimly. “Yeah, the second one. I know he goes there sometimes after he’s had a bad day. I don’t know why, but yeah. If you’re running out of ideas, try checking there.”  
  
"And how do I know you’re not lying to me?" I ask. "Why the fuck would he be at the bridge? For all I know, you guys could have him locked up in that house somewhere or some weird shit like that, and you’re just trying to chase me away with some made-up bullshit about this goddamn bridge." Maybe it’s harsh, but as much as I want to believe that Kellin isn’t with them, I don’t think I can completely trust what Matt is saying.  
  
"That’s…a very valid argument," he says simply, nodding again in what seems like understanding. "Look, you can go around, check the entire house, whatever—you won’t find him. I honestly don’t know where he is, but I know he’s not here."  
  
There’s sincerity in his eyes, and I really, really want to hold onto that. “Okay,” I say slowly. “But why are you helping me, anyways? I thought he was your slut.”  
  
"So you know about that, huh?" He sighs again, running his fingers through his hair. "Look, I don’t like being involved with these guys," he says finally. "I did at first, but now…" He shakes his head. "It’s fun sometimes, certain things, but all this shit with Kellin—he really liked you. I think he still does. I don’t wanna get in the way of that. I don’t want to force anyone to do something they don’t want to do. I haven’t had sex with him in months—or with any of our other ‘sluts,’ for that matter."  
  
"If you really don’t like it, then why don’t you just, like, leave?" I say. "Stop associating with them?"  
  
He bites his lip. “We’ve made agreements,” he says. “It would end badly if I were to just walk away from them. We’re all in it together.”  
  
"Sounds like some sort of gang," I mutter.  
  
Matt doesn’t reply to that. He just says, “If I were lying to you about this whole bridge thing, I wouldn’t have chosen a fucking bridge. That’s a weird place to be. I know it is. Nobody would take me seriously. I’d choose something more believable. But I know Kellin hangs out at that place—I had to pick him up from there one time, and he talked to me about it a little bit, but not much. He said something about how it was the only place where he felt like he could truly think, away from the rest of the world. Or something. I don’t fucking know. But I promise you, it’s very possible that that’s where he is. And I hope you find him. I hope he’s okay. Really. He’s been very…distraught lately.”  
  
I nod, breathing deeply. “Thank you,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “But if he’s not there, I’m bringing my brother back here with me, and we’re all gonna have a little chat. So, for your sake, you’d better hope that you’re right.”  
  
With that, I turn around and head to my car. I’m focused on nothing but finding Kellin at that bridge. He’s right—it’s an absurd place to be. But somehow, it seems like exactly the kind of crazy, reckless thing that Kellin would do.  
  
It’s not a particularly busy bridge, but it’s definitely big, overlooking not just a small creek, but a wide river. The water is deep and freezing cold, especially at this time of the year, and the river itself is huge.  
  
I drive across it slowly, keeping an eye out for Kellin. About halfway down on the right side, I see him on the other side of the railing, pacing back and forth.  
  
I have a split second of relief and pleasant surprise that Matt wasn’t lying after all, but all of that is quickly replaced by panic. My heart starts beating faster as I park the car on the side of the road and climb out, rushing over to the railing and attempting to climb over. He’s dangerously close to the edge and a little unsteady on his feet—it’s not like there’s much room up here. He stops for a moment, looking down at the deep, half-frozen river below and nodding to himself, as if he’s making a decision.  
  
He glances up at the sky and then back down at the river, lips moving, quivering, whispering something too quietly for me to hear. Then he closes his eyes and leans forward.  
  
My breath catches in my chest, but through the sudden terror in my lungs and my throat, I manage to squeeze out a single word: “ _Stop_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is that a cliffhanger oh oops I think it is
> 
> also yes I added Jardougall bc I’m trash and yes I’m describing Jenna as blond in this fic even though right now it’s a darker color bc I just imagine her as blond in most fanfiction idk but yeah


	23. Don't You Worry

That one word is spoken so quietly that he almost doesn’t hear me—almost.  
  
He is so close to doing it, but he seems to stop in his tracks as I run towards him. He’s frozen on the edge, balancing between living and dying, and I say it again, louder: “Kellin,  _stop_!”  
  
He turns to me slowly, as if in a dream. He looks even worse than he did last night, all bloodshot eyes and shaky form, his messy hair sticking to his face and his thin clothes clinging to his small body. His bottom lip is trembling, mouth opening and closing very slightly, as if he’s trying to say something but doesn’t know how.  
  
I make my way towards him, reaching out and lightly touching his shoulder. He flinches and takes a step backward, his foot slipping on the edge of the bridge. I grab him by the arm just before he falls, my heart hammering in my chest, and we stay like that for a few moments before I gently guide him away. We sit down with our backs against the railing, both of us breathing heavily, and after a few moments of silence, he says, “I thought you hated me.”  
  
His voice is so quiet and raspy and sad, and I don’t know what to do to fix it, but I feel like I have to fix it somehow.  
  
I turn to him, an ache in my chest just from looking at him. “I don’t think I could ever truly hate you, Kell.”  
  
He doesn’t say anything.  
  
"How long have you been here?" I continue. "And why? What happened?"  
  
He shakes his head. “I’ve barely slept at all, a little bit here and there, and I sort of feel like I’m on drugs. Or hungover.”  
  
"Is this where you’ve been all day?"  
  
He nods. “For the most part. I turned off my phone. Sorry. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. And I didn’t want anyone to find me. I just needed some time to myself. A lot of time.”  
  
"Do you do this a lot?" I can’t help but feel like I’m interrogating him, but I want answers.  
  
"I guess. It’s just…whenever I have a bad day."  
  
I hesitate before asking my next question: “Why? Why a bridge? And why on the other side of the railing?”  
  
He shrugs. “I guess I just…I don’t know. I like the feeling of…almost dying. Or being close to dying. And the water looks nice. But usually I don’t, like, actually want to die.”  
  
"Usually," I repeat. "But that’s not what it looked like a few minutes ago."  
  
He shrugs again. “What can I say? I’m done with everything. Or maybe, like I said, I’m just really sleep-deprived and don’t know what I’m saying. Probably. Hopefully. But right now I’m done with everything.”  
  
"What happened last night?" I ask.  
  
He bites his lip. “I don’t remember everything, but after I, uh, talked to you, I found Oli, and we went back to my place for a little while. My mom was working super late. And Oli, he…well, we had sex. Again. I didn’t want it. I wanted you. And Oli didn’t like that I wanted you, so he had to fuck some sense into me. And then he just kind of left me there. I think that’s when I sort of lost it. And I think I might’ve punched the wall. I don’t know. I stayed there for a while, but then I just left and walked the whole way here. And then I got really hungover this morning, so I just fucking walked to a nearby rest stop, like Turkey Hill or something; I don’t even remember. Puked a lot. Took a piss. Came back here once the worst was over. Resumed my contemplation of life and death. Yeah. Something like that.” He rubs his eyes. “How much did I tell you last night? I can’t remember exactly what I said.”  
  
I take a breath. “You told me that Oli and his friends all treat you like their whore. And that they’re really possessive and don’t want us to be together, and that that was the reason Oli was kissing you on Monday, and that you’re sworn to secrecy or something and that’s why you didn’t tell me…”  
  
He nods, closing his eyes and running his hands through his hair. “God, I’m so stupid. So fucking stupid. But I’m stupid either way. I’m stupid for keeping it a secret and not telling you earlier—because I promised I wouldn’t be disloyal, and I knew I’d break it, but I promised you anyways because I’m stupid—but I’m also stupid for telling you at all. Because they’re gonna figure out that I told you somehow, ‘cause they always do, and then something bad’ll happen, and I don’t know if it’ll be to me or you or someone else, but it’ll be to someone, and it’ll be my fault. No matter what I do, I’ve been so stupid. So stupid to think that this could work out. So stupid to think that they’d let me be with you.”  
  
"They won’t find out that you told me," I assure him. "But you’ve gotta get out. Like, out of that relationship. And not for me, necessarily; for you. Because it’s hurting you, and I don’t want you to be treated like that, and I don’t think you want to be treated like that, either."  
  
"It’s not that simple," he says. "Believe me, I’ve tried. But they have so much power over us, Vic. I made this agreement when I was in a bad place and needed some help, and they helped, but they have the power to take that help away. And I can’t let that happen."  
  
"Can’t you report them?" I say. "Isn’t what they’re doing technically illegal? Can’t the police do anything about it?"  
  
Kellin laughs humorlessly. “What evidence do I have? Plus, these kinds of cases hardly ever get brought to court or anything like that. Most of them are dismissed. Nobody ever believes the victims. Or the victims get blamed. Don’t tell me I wouldn’t get blamed for this, because I’m slutty, and a stripper,  _and_  a prostitute. Asking for it. Or I wouldn’t be taken seriously because of the belief that this can’t happen to men. I’d just get made fun of, and then Oli and everybody, they’d make me pay for trying to rat them out. They’ve got dirt on me. I’m a prostitute, for fuck’s sake. But that’s not all—I’m seventeen, Vic. I’m still a minor, and minors aren’t even allowed inside either of the clubs I work at. I’ve been using a fake ID. Frank and Phil and everybody, none of them know that I’m still in high school. Stripping is legal, sure, but not for me.”  
  
I don’t know how to respond. It’s clear that he’s thought about all this a lot, and I can see the frustration in his eyes. After a long moment, I sigh and lightly brush my hand against his in a gesture that’s supposed to be comforting. “I’m sorry.”  
  
"For what?" he asks softly, and he looks so cold and small and hopeless, and I want to wrap my arms around him and hold him close, but I don’t know if he wants that from me.  
  
"I’m sorry that this is happening to you," I say. "Really. And I’m sorry that there doesn’t seem to be a way out. I’m sorry that all of this happened, and I’m sorry that everything is all fucked up, and I’m so sorry for what I said to you."  
  
Kellin just looks at me for a few seconds, and then he rests his head on my shoulder, pulling himself closer to me and pressing his body to mine in an odd sort of position right on the very edge of a bridge. The freezing wind is whipping around us, cutting through us like a blade, and he shivers against me. “I know you didn’t mean it,” he says finally. “I just…”  
  
"It was such a shitty thing to say," I say, wincing.  
  
"At least you realize that it was a shitty thing to say," he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. "Fuck. This is all fucked. All I wanted to do was date you." He takes a deep breath. "You know what? I don’t give a fuck. I’m gonna date whoever I want to date."  
  
I raise my eyebrows at him. “Are you sure? What if something happens?”  
  
"Fuck it," he says. "I only have one question: Do you even want me back after all this craziness?"  
  
I answer his question by pressing a kiss to his temple, running my fingers through his hair. “Of course.”  
  
He makes a small noise of relief, a slow smile forming on his face. “Are you—are you being serious right now? After keeping this a secret from you, after letting them do all those things to me behind your back—”  
  
"I understand why you did it," I say. "I admit that maybe you could’ve been a bit smarter about it, but, y’know, I haven’t been very smart, either. It’s hard to deal with something like that. But I’m here, okay? I understand it now, and I’m here."  
  
He just stares at me for a few more seconds, disbelief written all over his face. “Thank you,” he says. “Oh my God. I don’t deserve this, but thank you.”  
  
"Hey, do you want me to change my mind?" I tease.  
  
"No way."  
  
It’s kind of weird, how we go from such a dark and intense conversation to something more lighthearted as I softly kiss his lips. But I guess that’s all we can do—find solace and peace wherever we can get it.  
  
Kellin pulls away suddenly, as if he’s just realized or remembered something. “Fuck,” he groans. “I haven’t been stripping much lately, ‘cause of this.” He points at his black eye. “That’s not attractive. We’ve gotta look perfect. Makeup helps, but…” He shakes his head. “I haven’t been getting as much money lately. I  _really_  need money.” He sounds so desperate when he says it.  
  
At this point, it occurs to me that I never really knew why he ever started stripping in the first place. I always assumed it was just for fun.  
  
"May I ask why?" I say.  
  
He sighs. “We’re not rich. We were just barely hanging on when Dad was with us, and now with him leaving and everything, even with Mom working two jobs and me doing what I do…well, we’re at risk of losing our house, basically.”  
  
Just when I thought we were all out of surprises. “Holy shit, really?”  
  
"Well…yeah." He says this as if it should be obvious. "We’re not exactly upper class citizens, and it doesn’t help that my mom insists on spending every little bit of her income on drugs. The only reason my sister is in college right now is because she got a full scholarship. It’s not Harvard or anything, but it’s not a terrible school, either, and she’s mostly just thankful that she was able to go somewhere at all."  
  
I nod slowly, thinking about Kellin’s own smarts. He doesn’t talk about his grades or his classes much, but I’m willing to bet that he’s brighter than he makes himself out to be.  
  
"I’m not getting my hopes up about going to college," he continues. "I mean, I want to, I really do. But just because my sister got lucky doesn’t mean I’m going to."  
  
For a few moments, it’s just silence, me thinking about everything he’s just told me, him most likely pondering things that I can be aware of but never truly understand. My family isn’t rich, but poverty has never been a huge issue, even after Dad died.  
  
"Hey," I say. "Do you wanna, like, sit in my car instead, if we’re gonna talk? Are you good here? Because it’s fucking freezing."  
  
Kellin nods, standing up slowly and sending one last look out at the river below. “Yeah. That sounds like a better idea right now.”  
  
We quickly hop over the railing and climb into the car, starting it up and turning the heat on. It’s only then that I think of something, something I’ve been trying so hard to forget. Something that (despite how random it seems) I feel like Kellin should know.  
  
"A week before my dad died," I blurt, "I caught him cheating on my mom with a stripper."  
  
He turns to me in surprise. “What?”  
  
"Uh, yeah," I say, shocked at myself for letting that slip out. I’ve never told anyone about it before, not even Mike. "It’s…kind of a long story."  
  
Kellin shrugs. “I’ve got time, if you want to tell it. But only if you want to.”  
  
I take a deep breath. “Okay. So. It was winter, right, and we got out of school early because of snow. I remember Mike went over to Jaime’s place, but I went home because I just sort of wanted to be alone, y’know? I guess my dad didn’t realize that we were coming back early—he worked the night shift, so he was always home all day, and my mom was at work. So I guess my dad invited this other woman over, and when I walked in I heard them upstairs…” I pause and take another slow breath as I remember it all. I’ve got a few secrets up my sleeve, but this isn’t one I ever thought I’d tell.  
  
"I had no idea what to do. My first thought was that my mom had taken a day off work and I had just caught my parents having sex, and I was kinda grossed out, ‘cause, y’know, parent sex." I laugh a little, in a weak attempt at lightening the mood. "But that voice did  _not_  sound like my mom’s. It sounded younger. And then I noticed the shoes at the door and the coat on the coat hanger, and I’d never seen them before, and that’s when I sort of started to piece everything together. And so I snuck upstairs and just sort of stood by the wall and pressed my ear up against the door to my parents’ bedroom, and they were definitely having sex from what I could hear, and I know her name was Emily because that’s the name my dad was saying, and that is  _not_  my mom’s name. Maybe I should have handled the whole thing differently, but in the moment I just didn’t know what to do. I was thinking about bursting in and confronting them right then and there or something like that, but it was like I was paralyzed, y’know? I was just trying to process it, and when they were done, I realized she was a stripper because of the way they were talking. She was saying things like how my dad was ‘lucky’ because whenever she performed, men would fantasize about having sex with her, and he got to do it regularly…which meant that this had been going on for a while, which was even worse. She even knew he was married, asking him if his wife ever gave him sex that good and shit like that, and he was telling her all these things that he really shouldn’t have been saying to someone who wasn’t his wife…then I realized that they were walking towards the door, so I ran into my room, and they didn’t even know I was home. And after that, I wanted to say something to my dad, but I was, like, afraid. I don’t know. I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t know what it would do. It was obvious that he liked Emily a hell of a lot better than he liked my mom. It was all so fucked up. And I wanted to tell Mom, but I didn’t…I don’t know. I was just dumb. And then Dad died a week later, so I missed my chance to confront him. So I thought it didn’t really matter if I never told anyone, because he’s dead now, so what good is it gonna do? It would only be more shit to pile on top of their shoulders, and I didn’t want that.”  
  
Through all my rambling as I tell the story, Kellin watches me intently, his expression ranging from shock to anger to sadness. When I’m done, he reaches across the car’s center console and takes my hand in his. He doesn’t say anything, but the simple gesture is enough for me.  
  
"I wanted to tell you this because I think that’s what made me so, like…so prejudiced," I explain. "Against people like you. I guess I just thought you were all horrible, and found enjoyment out of cheating or ruining relationships or whatever…I don’t know what I thought. Just that it wasn’t anything good. I didn’t even really approve of those kinds of jobs or lifestyles before that whole thing happened, but after…it just sort of did something to me, y’know? Maybe it would’ve been easier for me if I’d already hated him or something, but I didn’t. He had his problems—he was an alcoholic, for fuck’s sake—but I still looked up to him for almost seventeen years of my life."  
  
Kellin nods sympathetically. “Thank you,” he says finally. “For telling me that. It’s awful, though. To come home to that when it was someone you really admired.” He squeezes my hand lightly, and I can’t help but be thankful. I’ve always had to be the strong one, always had to be the “responsible” one, never allowed to make a mistake. It’s nice that someone would show a comforting gesture towards me. I don’t like to admit it, but sometimes I really love this sort of affection. Even when I don’t deserve it.  
  
"I should probably get you back home," I say after a few moments. "Your mom’s been, uh, looking for you."  
  
He narrows his eyes in surprise. “She has? Really?”  
  
"Well, she’s been worried about you." It’s not a lie; she did seem worried.  
  
"I’m getting the feeling that you were more worried," Kellin says dismissively, shrugging.  
  
I raise an eyebrow. “What makes you think that?” I can’t tell him whether or not it’s true. For all I know, his mother could’ve been ten times more worried about him than I was.  
  
"Because you always have been," he says simply. "Even when you were angry with me, even when I thought you hated me…you still seemed to care more about my wellbeing than she does."  
  
I squeeze his hand the same way he did to me. “You should go back home anyways.”  
  
"Wait," he says. "What does this mean for us? Like, where do we stand?"  
  
"Well…Oli doesn’t have to know about us," I say slowly. "Maybe if we tried to keep it on the down-low…y’know, if you wanted to…"  
  
Kellin nods, kissing me on the cheek. “I’d love to,” he says. “I want to put this whole thing behind us, okay?” He bites his lip thoughtfully. “But…I want you to promise me one thing.”  
  
"What?"  
  
He runs his fingers through my hair, his eyes locking with mine. “Promise that you won’t worry about me too much.”  
  
"I can’t promise that," I say softly. "Not with all this."  
  
Unexpectedly, Kellin leans forward and wraps his arms around me. “I’ll be okay,” he whispers soothingly, resting his head on my shoulder.  
  
"But what if you’re not?" I ask. I hate the constantly nagging voice in my head, making me stressed and paranoid, but nothing I do can make it go away.  
  
"I’ve got it all under control," he assures me, but his voice shakes and his arms tighten around me, and from what I’ve seen and what I know, it’s clear that he  _doesn’t_  have it all under control. And that’s what he wants the most: to be able to have everything under his control.  
  
"I should go home now," he adds, pulling away, but not before giving me a gentle, reassuring kiss on the lips.  
  
—  
  
After I drop Kellin off, I kind of want to take a moment to just relax after that whole ordeal, but I know I’ve got something to do before that. I’ve got some business to take care of with a certain drug-dealing ex-boyfriend.  
  
I could definitely do it over texts, but this feels like something I need to do in person to get my point across and let him know I’m serious, so I drive over to his house. He answers the door immediately, and I can tell from just one look that he’s high. I don’t know where the hell his parents are, and to this day, I still don’t understand how he can get away with all this. For all I know, they could be addicts, too.  
  
But none of that matters right now.  
  
"I have to talk to you," I say firmly as Beau motions for me to come in. I step inside, but hopefully I’ll only be here for a few minutes.  
  
"How ‘bout we take this up to my room?" he suggests, and that’s exactly where the problem lies.  
  
"Uh, yeah. About that. Can we stop this?" I say bluntly. "This…whatever we have going on. I don’t want to do this anymore."  
  
His expression changes to one of jealousy and anger. “You sure about that, Fuentes?” He takes a step closer, pushing me up against the wall.  
  
"Yes," I insist. "I’m sure. I want you to leave me alone."  
  
Beau’s eyes flit up and down my body, leaving me feeling exposed. But I can’t back down now.  
  
"I thought you liked it," he says, his hands sliding down to my hips.  
  
"No. I don’t. And I want you to stop because this isn’t good for me. Or anybody."  
  
He raises his eyebrows, still refusing to move. “You were having fun with my tongue in your mouth last night.”  
  
"It doesn’t matter." I push him, hard enough that he lets go of me and takes a step back. "No. Means.  _No_.”  
  
He scowls. “Bitch. You’re never gonna get away from this. Look at you. One bad thing happens, and you’re crawling right back to this life. Doesn’t matter how many times you try to stay ‘clean.’ It’s never gonna work. I’ll see you in a few months.”  
  
I roll my eyes and simply turn my back on him, heading for the door. Then I walk right back out without a second glance, letting him know that at the end of the day, he’s not good for me, and I want nothing to do with him.  
  
—  
  
Nobody’s home that night, since Mike is with Alysha again. I’m kind of glad that he’s found her. There’s a sort of light that surrounds him whenever he talks about her. It’s as if she’s sort of reminding him how to care about people. I’m not sure how long that’ll last, though, and it kind of scares me to think about what could happen if their relationship doesn’t work out.  
  
It’s late when my phone buzzes, and to my mild surprise, there’s a message from Kellin:  _i miss ur lips. they’re better than oli’s. they’re softer. kiss me u n00b  
  
I can’t kiss you when you’re not here!!_ I reply, a dumb smile forming on my face. It’s so refreshing to get a text like this.  
  
 _oh rly?? check ur front door. im freezing. notice me senpai_  
  
Laughing, I head downstairs and open the door, and sure enough, there’s Kellin, looking a lot better than he did earlier. I still find myself glancing at his black eye, though, wrapping my head around the fact that my brother did that to him.  
  
"Hey," he says, flashing me an unusually shy smile and stepping inside. "Is your brother home?"  
  
"Nah, he’s with his girlfriend," I reply, closing the door behind him.  
  
"Good. I don’t want him trying to kill me again." He says it as a joke, even laughing at himself, but I think we both know it’s not that much of an exaggeration.  
  
"He left right when I got home today," I say, sitting down on the living room couch and gesturing for him to join me. "I haven’t had a chance to explain the whole situation to him yet. I mean, I probably won’t tell him the  _whole_  situation, but I’ll explain to him, like, why we’re back together. If that’s okay with you.”  
  
Kellin shrugs as he sits down next to me. “Sure, whatever.”  
  
We’re silent for a few moments, and then I say, “So, Mike says you punched him back.”  
  
He shrugs again, his face heating up. “It was mostly just self-defense. I didn’t know what to do, but I had to do something, and before I could think about it, I just kind of…yeah. I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about that. People keep asking me where I got the black eye from, and I just…”  
  
"It’s fine. We don’t have to talk about it."  
  
He nods, turning and gazing at me strangely. Before I can say another word, he takes my face in his hands, leans forward, and kisses me, long and hard and passionate. I find myself kissing back, pulling him closer to me and savoring the sweet taste of his lips. He’s the only person whose tongue I want in my mouth or whose hands I want in my hair.  
  
He climbs onto my lap, kissing me harder and running his fingers across my skin. I hold him close to me, possessive and protective, as if I can keep any threats away from him if I hold him tightly enough.  
  
He pulls away from me with a goofy smile on his face. “Make-up sex?” he suggests.  
  
I just laugh at him. “Sure.”  
  
"Wait, are you serious?" he says, looking pleasantly surprised.  
  
"I don’t know," I say. "Are  _you_  serious?"  
  
He shrugs a third time, the smile widening. His hair is falling messily into his face, and his eyes are sparkling for once, and everything is playful and teasing and full of something I can’t explain.  
  
"You know," I say slowly, "after all this…don’t you think we deserve a night off?"  
  
I don’t think either of us can believe what I’m saying, because I’m the one who’s usually worried about everything, but tonight it’s like I just don’t care. I don’t want to worry about everything. I want to let go, and I want to do it with him.  
  
"Carry me, Senpai. Take me away," he proclaims dramatically, shifting his body so that I can carry him bridal style, and that’s exactly what I do, taking him up to my room and laughing the whole way. Our situation is far from perfect—actually, it’s pretty fucked up, if you ask me—but none of that seems to exist right now. Inside this house, where there is no one but us, it’s just stupid jokes and sweet words and lips against skin, and we’re stealing every happy moment we can get.  
  
I guess that’s what desperation does to people.


	24. Tonight I'm Gonna Hold You So Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is officially the longest chapter i've ever written for this fic so far. 5.3k words. wow

I lightly push Kellin down onto my bed, climbing on top of him with a wild hunger. It’s been barely a week since I found him and Oli together, but I feel the need to sort of reclaim him. It feels like we don’t have much time, so we have to savor every bit of this that we can get. Tonight, I’m not as careful or hesitant as I usually am. Tonight, I want to touch him and kiss him and mark him everywhere. I want to make him feel good, to have him tugging at my air and whispering my name, to have my lips against his skin, as if I can somehow kiss away all his problems. I know I can’t, and he can’t kiss away all of mine, but just for tonight, I want to pretend.  
  
I kiss him fervently, unzipping his black hoodie and taking it off of him. He sits up slightly and tosses it to the floor before grabbing me by my t-shirt and pulling me back on top of him, bringing my lips back down to his. Then he lets go of me completely and spreads his arms out on both sides, as if he’s being crucified or something. It’s an action that almost seems like a surrender, as if he’s saying, “Do what you want with me.” No matter what, it’s hot, and so is the thin tank top he’s been wearing underneath the hoodie (in the middle of winter—but that’s Kellin for you). I slide my hands underneath the soft fabric, pushing it up past his hips and his stomach, running my hands all up and down his torso. I still can’t get enough of his body, and I don’t know if I ever will.  
  
Kellin breaks us off for a second, but only to beg: “Ugh, take it off. Get it off me.”  
  
I don’t argue with that, helping him pull the top over his head and taking a moment just to appreciate how good he looks shirtless. He notices me admiring his body and grins widely. “Like what you see, huh?”  
  
"You know I do." I lean my head down and start to bite his neck, but he lightly pushes me away.  
  
"No hickeys," he whispers in a warning, the smile fading and solemnity settling in his eyes. "Try not to make any marks on me."  
  
I sigh, biting my lip and running my fingers through my hair. “Don’t your one-night stands ever do that?” I ask. “Even if someone sees, they don’t have any proof that it was me, right?”  
  
"No, but you’d be first on their list of guesses. I just don’t want to take any chances."  
  
I nod slowly. “Okay.” I lower my head down to his chest. “But…does that mean I can’t do this, then?” I bite his nipple playfully, and he lets out a noise somewhere between a giggle and a yelp.  
  
"You asshole," he says, the grin returning to his face. "The one time I want you to take something seriously, and you decide not to."  
  
"I don’t want to be serious right now," I say truthfully. "Right now I just want us. Alone."  
  
Kellin looks so genuinely happy, but he still makes a face at me and says, “I hate you.”  
  
"No, you don’t." I bite his nipple again.  
  
"Ow," he says, laughing some more. "Just have sex with me already, you dickhead."  
  
"Patience is a virtue, y’know." But with that, I pull my own shirt off, kissing him and pressing my body against his as I straddle him possessively. I rub myself against him, and he breaks the kiss off for a moment.  
  
"Ugh," he groans. "Are you trying to make me come with just foreplay? Because it might be working."  
  
"Getting excited, are we?" I tease, although I’m pretty turned on myself.  
  
Kellin just nods. “Touch me,” he whines. “I want you to touch me.”  
  
” _Patience_ , you little brat,” I remind him, smirking as I reach down and palm him through his jeans. He lifts his hips up at my touch, taking my hand and pressing it firmly against his crotch.  
  
"Please," he says, and he’s so fucking attractive when he’s all hot and bothered that I can’t help but give in, undoing his pants and pulling them down with his boxers.  
  
"You’re unbelievable," I continue to tease as I quickly pull my own pants and boxers down, everything landing in an unorganized heap on the floor. "You just want me so badly, don’t you?"  
  
"Uh huh," he says. I send him a smile and lean back down, kissing him hard and slipping my tongue into his mouth for a few short moments. But before we can get too into it, I break it off and reach for my bedside drawer, pulling out a condom and lube.  
  
His eyes are clouded with lust as he watches me slide the condom on and cover it all with lube. This time, I’m confident as I position myself right up against him, teasing him as he moans and pushes himself on me, as he desperately wraps his legs around my waist. “Please,” he repeats, and I push myself in, slow but sure, holding back from making any noises. I almost want to ask him if he’s okay, but he answers that question with the way that he jerks his hips up. “Go,” he begs. “M-more.”  
  
"Being impatient won’t get you anything," I tell him, lightly biting his nipple yet again. His response is less of a yelp and more of a sexually frustrated gasp this time, and he kisses me furiously, biting my bottom lip down hard. I let out a muffled gasp of my own.  
  
"Move it," he whispers into my ear—there’s his controlling side, even when I’m on top of him. He knows exactly how he wants it and exactly what he likes.  
  
I pull pretty far out before I push back in, not too quick but not slow either, and Kellin lifts his hips up again, moving perfectly in time with me. I’m so turned on just by the sight and sound of him, and the feeling of him around me—of his sweaty and beautiful body underneath me—makes it all so perfect. His moans are low, long, and barely audible, but I can hear them clearly. “Speak up, baby,” I breathe, my lips less than an inch away from his as I speed it up. He moans louder.  
  
"Fuck you," he whispers, roughly bucking his hips up again. I gasp at the movement, the friction, and he grins knowingly, tangling his fingers in my hair and kissing me even harder, using his skilled tongue to his advantage. I don’t slow down, though, keeping it steady and kissing him back just as fiercely. Then I break it off suddenly, panting in his ear as I run my lips across his neck, so lightly that it doesn’t leave a mark. "Oh, God," he says, leaning his head back against the pillow in what looks like bliss.  
  
"You like that?" I ask, thrusting harder and letting out a moan of my own as I feel myself go deeper inside him.  
  
"Fuck. Fuck, y-yes." His grip tightens on my hair, but I don’t mind.  
  
Kellin and I both groan at the next thrust, my angle changing just enough to hit him right where he likes it best. “Fuck,” he breathes, eyes fluttering open and closed. “Right there…”  
  
The way he reacts, the movements that he makes, has me groaning louder, even closing my eyes as I pick up my pace. I can’t get enough of him, of his hips, of the way he matches my speed, of his back slightly arching up off the bed. “God, you’re s-so hot,” I pant as I feel myself getting closer.  
  
Kellin just lets out another wordless whimper, rolling his hips up, and I bury my face in his chest to muffle the sound of my moan. “Oh m-my God.”  
  
"You like that?" he asks, his voice soft and shaky but so deliberate as he repeats my own words back to me, rolling his hips up again.  
  
"Ugh, yes." I kiss him once more, but the noises I make slip into his mouth as we keep going like this, and his noises slip into mine, both of us exchanging groans as our hands touch each other’s bodies everywhere. There’s a familiar feeling in my stomach, and I know I’m not going to last very long now.  
  
I lift his ass up slightly more, reaching down and grabbing it around the hips. One more thrust, and I’m coming, my body shaking a little bit as I slow down and finish it up. “Holy fuck,” I breathe, trying to catch my breath and reveling in the euphoric feeling washing over me. Then I take Kellin’s hard shaft in my hand and pump it up and down.  
  
His whines are even more high-pitched and desperate, his body moving to the pattern of my hand. “Yes,” he gasps, and only a few seconds later, it’s his turn, spilling all over his stomach and tightening up around me. “Ugh, Vic…”  
  
I stroke him for a couple more moments before I take my hand away and pull out of him, grabbing us some tissues and throwing the condom in the trash can. Then I sigh contentedly and lie down next to him, quietly studying his face. Of course, he’s all sweaty, but there’s also clear satisfaction written on his features.  
  
"Well," he says, breaking the silence, "are we gonna get dressed or what?" Teasingly, he raises an eyebrow at me. "Or are we just gonna stay like this the whole rest of the night?"  
  
My face heats up. “Well—um—”  
  
He snorts. “Pervert.” Then he gets up and starts pulling his boxers back on before climbing back into bed, and I do the same, both of us leaving our pants on the floor.  
  
"Sleeping together naked, huh?" I say, crawling under the covers. "I like the way you think."  
  
Kellin laughs, shaking his head. “Who said anything about me sleeping here? I could just be temporarily cuddling with you.”  
  
“Please stay over,” I say bluntly.  
  
"Why?"  
  
Now he’s just messing with me. “Because there’s a monster in my closet and I don’t like sleeping alone because I’m afraid it’ll get me,” I say with a deadpan expression. “Why do you think I want you to stay over?”  
  
"Round two?"  
  
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Jesus Christ.”  
  
Kellin grins, leaning forward and kissing me softly. “I’m kidding,” he says, though I already know that. “I like that you want me to stay over. And I am, if that’s okay with you. I was kidding about the temporary cuddles, too. You get a full night’s worth.” He winks. “Now, which one of our lazy asses is gonna get up and turn the light off?”  
  
—  
  
We end up in our traditional spooning position, only with less clothes. We don’t say much after that, though, and I’m kind of glad. I don’t want words to spoil the moment with worries or fears. For once in my life, I’ve completely let go of it all, and maybe that’s something I can learn to do more often. Because it feels nice, not worrying about anything. It really does.  
  
We fall into a peaceful sleep after that. There’s no “round two” like Kellin jokingly suggested, even with both of us in only boxers, but I’m fine with that. Physical intimacy doesn’t always have to mean sex (and besides, I’m too tired to do anything).  
  
As usual, I wake up before him the next morning, but I stay in the same position because I just don’t want to move. I want to stay like this as long as possible, before we inevitably have to get out of bed and face the world.  
  
I’ve been lying awake for about twenty minutes when Kellin stirs suddenly. His body starts to tense up, followed by a sharp intake of breath. I know him well enough to know that these are signs that he’s having a nightmare.  
  
He makes a noise of distress, turning his body to face me. His eyes are closed, though; it’s clear that he’s still trapped in his subconscious. “Kell,” I say firmly, squeezing his hand. “Hey, wake up. It’s okay.”  
  
He pushes me away surprisingly forcefully. “Get away from me,” he says, sounding slightly more awake, though he’s definitely stuck in the dream. “Don’t touch me.”  
  
"I’m not going to hurt you," I say calmly, but it’s clear that words aren’t getting to him. "Kellin, come on. It’s me." I start shaking him, doing anything to wake him up. I hate touching him when it’s obvious that he doesn’t want to be touched, but if that’s what it takes to get him out of this nightmare, then that’s what I’ll do.  
  
"Stop," he cries out, curling in on himself and covering his face with his hands. "Stop, stop, stop…"  
  
"It’s Vic!" I say desperately, letting go of him. He’s never been this difficult before. It’s never been this intense before—not with me, at least.  
  
He pauses at the sound of my name, rubbing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “Vic?” he repeats, sounding more awake, his voice tiny and defeated and scared.  
  
"Yes," I say, quieter. "It’s just me. You’re with me. You’re okay."  
  
"I’m okay?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Was it just a dream?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And I’m awake now?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
He opens his eyes slowly, cautiously, as if he’s afraid of what he’ll see. It seems to take him a few seconds to register who he’s looking at and where he is, but when he does, he sighs. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. It’s usually not that bad.”  
  
"It’s okay," I say. "You don’t have to apologize for something you can’t help."  
  
He shrugs, staring at me with sadness and guilt. We just sort of stare at each other for a few moments, and when I can’t take the look on his face anymore, I add, “Do you want to tell me about it?”  
  
"Not really, but I probably should," he admits.  
  
"No, it’s fine," I say quickly. "You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do."  
  
He stares at me for a few more moments. Then he says, “I always dream about people…well, touching me where I don’t want to be touched.”  
  
It doesn’t really surprise me that that’s what he’s dreaming about, and it pisses me off that I’m not surprised. It pisses me off that I’m used to this. It pisses me off that  _he’s_  used to this.  
  
"It’s usually not anyone specific, surprisingly," he continues, briefly biting his lip. "It’s just people. And I just feel, like, their hands all over me, and they’re all doing these things to me like I’m just their personal plaything, like a doll or some shit, and I’m, like, completely paralyzed, and I can’t do anything about it, can’t move, can’t speak, but that doesn’t mean I don’t try. I guess that’s why I toss and turn and sleep-talk whenever I’m having one of these dreams. I’m thinking about doing it, so even if my dream self isn’t doing it, I guess my real life self is." He frowns. "God, this is so stupid. Nightmares are for little kids afraid of the dark. I mean, I know that anyone of any age can have them, but it just…makes me feel so  _weak_. Or something. Y’know?”  
  
Even if I don’t experience this, I know what he’s trying to say. “Jesus Christ,” I say softly. “I’m sorry. That sounds…”  
  
He shakes his head. “I don’t want sympathy,” he says. “I don’t want people feeling sorry for me.”  
  
"Well…I can’t just  _not_  feel sorry for you,” I say slowly. “It’s just because I care about you and I don’t like to see bad things happening to you. I’m not trying to degrade you or belittle you or treat you like a child.”  
  
He doesn’t respond to that for a couple seconds. Then he leans forward and rests his head against my chest, sighing and closing his eyes. “Don’t look at me,” he says, his voice slightly muffled. “This is awful. I’m a disgrace. Dishonor on me, dishonor on my whole family, dishonor on my cow…”  
  
I laugh a lot harder than I expected to. It’s nice to hear him back to making jokes.  
  
He looks up at me, smiling a little. “Have I ever told you how much I love your laugh?”  
  
I smile back at him. “You might’ve mentioned it,” I say, “but it’s always nice to hear you say it again.”  
  
"Okay, well, I love your laugh. You should do it more often."  
  
We stay like that for a while, until Kellin has to go. Once I’m alone in my room, I decide to text Jaime about this whole issue.  
  
 _Hey. FYI: Kellin told me about the thing with you and him and Oli._  
  
His reply comes a few seconds later:  _What???  
  
Yeah. Pls don’t kill him. He was drunk. Then I asked him about it when he was sober. He said something about how they’re like, using you. And how you want to date Tony behind their backs. I guess that’s what you meant when you asked me about being in a relationship even if people don’t want you to be, am I right?_  
  
This reply takes a little longer, though still fairly quickly:  _Okay yeah that’s what it was about. You caught me. But btw, about that…I did it. I asked Tony out yesterday &; he said yes. So we’re now officially secretly dating._  
  
I smile a little just at the thought of them being in a relationship. Yeah, the circumstances surrounding them are awful, but at least he did it.  
  
A second text comes in before I can respond:  _Don’t tell anyone about this please.  
  
About Tony, or about Oli & co?_ I can’t help but send a second text to make a joke:  _Hah…Oliver and Company…  
  
Jesus Christ._ And then:  _No but seriously. Both. I can’t have Oli knowing that I’m dating Tony. And nobody can know about the Oli thing. It’s already dangerous enough that you know._  
  
I sigh, biting my lip as I stare at the message. I hate this. I want to do something more than just hide. I want to fix this somehow. It can’t possibly last forever. I feel like I’ve got to trust Kellin and Jaime’s judgment, though; they know Oli better than I do, and if they’re afraid of him, there must be something to be afraid of.  
  
 _Ok. I won’t tell anyone. Except Mike. I might need to tell him. Is that ok with you?  
  
Sure. Just make sure he doesn’t get pissed.  
  
I’ll stop him before he does anything bad, I promise.  
  
Ok. Thanks. Really._  
  
After that conversation, I cross the hall to Mike’s room, where I find him playing a video game on the floor and yelling at the screen. “Hey,” I say. My voice must startle him, because his hand jerks, pressing a wrong button on the controller. A few moments later, “Game Over” is flashing across the screen. I honestly can’t say what it is that he’s playing, but I guess it’s pretty intense.  
  
"Dammit," he says, dropping the controller and glaring up at me. "Haven’t you ever heard of this great new thing called  _knocking_?”  
  
I close the door behind me and sit down on his bed, crossing my arms over my chest. “I want to talk to you for a second.”  
  
He rolls his eyes, not leaving his spot on the floor. “Okay. Talk.”  
  
I take a deep breath. “Kellin and I are back together.”  
  
Everything about him changes dramatically. His body tenses up, the boredom and annoyance in his eyes switching to shock and anger. He jumps to his feet, looking like he’s about ready to go on a killing spree. “You— _what_?”  
  
I hold my hands up. “Listen, Mike. Listen to me. There was some, uh, misunderstanding. He—”  
  
"Misunderstanding?" he repeats incredulously. "He kissed another dude behind your back! What could you possibly have misunderstood?"  
  
"Oli kissed him," I say, hoping that I can calm him down before he does something stupid and drastic. "He and Oli are kind of…it’s hard to explain. But he didn’t want it. Oli’s sort of, like…in control of him."  
  
Mike just keeps staring at me. “How do you know he’s not just making it all up?”  
  
"Well, he was drunk when he told me. Like, smashed. I don’t think he was sober enough to lie to me so convincingly. He completely broke down. Tears and everything. And Matt—a friend of Oli’s—he sort of, like, admitted to it yesterday. Like, that he knew about it."  
  
"He could be in on it, too," Mike says stubbornly, disbelieving. "Kellin could’ve had that entire thing scripted and just got himself wasted to look more convincing."  
  
I don’t know how to argue without giving too much away. “Come on. You’re making this more complicated than it is.”  
  
"I’m not just gonna accept that you two are back together because of some bullshit that probably isn’t true," he snaps, turning and heading toward the door.  
  
In my split second of alarm, I blurt, “Jaime’s involved, too.”  
  
He stops in his tracks, turning back around and giving me a long stare. “Jaime?”  
  
I nod. “He’s…Oli’s got several guys. Long story short. Jaime may have hidden things from us, but as long as we’ve known him, he’s never lied to us about anything. And according to him, it’s all true.”  
  
Mike ponders this for a moment. I can tell he doesn’t want to believe it, but he’s losing steam, luckily.  
  
"Okay," he says slowly. "So…what’s going on now? You and Kellin kissed and made up and all that shit?"  
  
"It wasn’t that easy, necessarily," I reply, "but yes. But in secret. I just want to ask you for two things: One, that you don’t harass Kellin or pull any more of your stunts. Two, that you don’t tell anyone we’re back together. Oli can’t know."  
  
Mike raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”  
  
"He just can’t."  
  
Mike sighs, shaking his head at me. “You’re unbelievable. But I’ll do it, okay? Just because it’s you. But it’s gonna take more than this for me to trust Kellin again. You realize that, right?”  
  
"I do," I say, mostly just relieved that he’s calmed down. "And I’d feel the same way. But at least try to see past all this drama."  
  
That’s pretty much the only conversation we have all day. We both end up locking ourselves in our rooms, doing different things. I don’t know what he’s doing or why he’s doing it instead of going out or something, but I know that I’m just trying to recover from this whole ordeal. I feel like I haven’t been able to rest at all this week. Last night was the first time in a long time that I truly let go of all my problems, and it felt good. I just wish it were always that easy.  
  
It’s early evening when Kellin texts me while I’m finishing up my homework:  _how would u feel if like…u kno theoretically…we went out in2 the city 2gether… & like…did stupid romantic stuff…i hear its supposed 2 snow a lil bit 2nite & i want 2 see it w/ u bc i am an actual child_  
  
God, I missed these dorky messages. The whole ordeal with Oli might have happened in the span of a week, but it’s not about how long we were broken up; it’s about the fact that I didn’t think we’d be fixed. I didn’t think I’d ever get a text like this again. I lost all hope, and now I sort of feel the need to appreciate every good moment with him a little bit more, because who knows how many we have left?  
  
 _Well, theoretically, I would love to do that,_  I text back.  _You know…theoretically.  
  
so what if like…theoretically…u picked me up @ my house & we actually did that…&; also kissed a lot…would u be down 4 that or  
  
Are you kidding me I am definitely down for that  
  
kk cool…u should totes do that…bc im bored &; lonely & don’t have work 2nite & tbh i dont rly have any other friends besides u bc all my other friends are @ work but like i said since ur bro decorated my face w/ his fist i havent been doing it as often plus we dont rly hang w/ each other that much outside of work anyway?? we act like we dont even kno each other reminds me of fight club or smth. rule #1 of the gay strip club: never talk abt the gay strip club…srsly tho u should do the thing. i feel like im being rly possessive & greedy or smth but like can i pls have u just for tonight_  
  
I just smile to myself.  _Absolutely. I’m not really doing anything anyway. I’ll pick you up and we can go out for dinner._  
  
Nobody says anything about me leaving, of course; my mother and Mike are both in their own worlds, but then again, so am I most of the time. That’s just the way our household works, I guess.  
  
When I pick up Kellin, he greets me with a kiss on the cheek as he hops into the passenger seat. “What is it with you and never being with me in the afternoon?” I tease him.  
  
He shrugs. “I just don’t like staying at people’s houses for too long. And besides, night is the best time for this shit.”  
  
"Okay, whatever you say."  
  
The evening is blissful, so much that I almost forget about the problems at hand. I take Kellin out to a nice little restaurant for dinner, where we chat amiably about safe topics, topics that don’t remind us of just how fucked this whole thing is. I make sure to take him somewhere that I don’t think Oli or his friends would ever step foot in; though Kellin was the one who suggested this romantic endeavor, he seems extremely wary, as if he has only realized how bad of an idea this might be now that he’s actually out in public. We don’t live in a huge city, and our town is kind of like a fishbowl, so it’s possible that we could run into people we know or that word could get out that we were together, like we’re celebrities or something. So far, though, we seem to be in the clear. It’s a Sunday night anyways, so it’s not too busy.  
  
Still, we act sort of like children with our covert looks and gestures. Kellin holds my hand under our table and sends me dumb texts throughout the entire date, including but not limited to:  
  
 _i feel like were pretending 2 b straight. its funny. were like…secret gaygents  
  
bite me ;)  
  
i think i had sex w/ that waiter b4…would u be down 4 a threesome bc i can ask him  
  
i was kidding abt that last one lmao  
  
or was i_  
  
It’s getting increasingly difficult not to just kiss that stupid smile right off of his pretty lips.  
  
When we finish our dinner, we sit down on a bench on the sidewalk together. There aren’t many people out and around, especially not on the outskirts of the city like we are, so it sort of feels like we’re alone, minus the occasional car passing by. We can both see our breaths, but it’s surprisingly not that cold out—not unbearably, at least—so Kellin insists on sitting here and waiting for the snow to come down.  
  
"I don’t understand you," I say jokingly. "Like, we get snow all the time. It’s not like we haven’t seen it before. If you ask me, I’d say we’ve seen too much of it. Why does this particular snow fascinate you so much?"  
  
He shrugs, his face red. “I just…really like snow. But I don’t get to appreciate it that often, so.”  
  
I nod slowly, discreetly intertwining his fingers with mine. My emotions are all over the place, but everything about him seems so calm and serene. I can’t imagine that he could possibly feel for me all the crazy things that I feel for him. It just doesn’t seem possible.  
  
Kellin notices me staring at him and narrows his eyes in confusion. “What’s wrong?”  
  
"Nothing," I say truthfully.  
  
"Do I have something on my face? Or between my teeth?" With his free hand, he starts to play with his hair, letting it fall into his face, especially where the black eye is.  
  
"No, no," I say quickly, smiling a little. "I was just…looking at you. And thinking about you. About us." My face heats up. I can’t believe I’m admitting to this.  
  
"Us?" he repeats, looking surprised. Then, in a quieter voice, he adds, "You know…I’ve been thinking about that, too."  
  
"Really?"  
  
His gaze is full of affection as he stares at me. “Well…yeah. I wouldn’t be so stubborn about dating you if it was just for fun. And I think Oli knows that. He knows I see something more in you, and that’s why he doesn’t like it. He knows I think of you as a lot more than just a temporary fling.”  
  
I nod slowly, just trying to take his words in. We’ve already established that he cares about me, but it still sounds so strange to hear him say things like this. It’s nice, though.  
  
Actually, it’s more than just  _nice_.  
  
Kellin looks up suddenly, squinting at the sky. “I felt something on my face,” he says.  
  
I can feel it, too, cold specks on my face. It’s dark out, but I can see it clearly under the streetlights: snow, slow at first but gradually picking up speed as the flakes grow larger and more noticeable.  
  
"Holy shit," Kellin says, a tiny smile on his lips, as if he’s never seen snow before.  
  
I laugh. “You know, I think you’re the only person living here who still gets excited over snow at this time of the year. By February, most of us are tired of it.”  
  
"I guess I’m not ‘most of us.’" His smile widens. Then, without another word, he leans forward and kisses me.  
  
The snow swirls all around us, and I can feel it getting into our hair and on our clothes, but I don’t care when Kellin’s lips are pressed to mine. It’s not a kiss meant to lead to anything more; it’s just a kiss, long and pure and gentle. I reach up and lightly run my fingers through his snowflake-covered hair, and he smiles even wider against my lips.  
  
We kiss for what feels like a long time, all soft touches and the taste of one person’s quiet laughter in the other person’s mouth. When we finally pull away from each other, we’re grinning and breathless.  
  
"Thank you," he says. "For wasting your Sunday night with me."  
  
"It’s better than wasting it at home."  
  
"True."  
  
We stare at each other for a few moments, and then I can feel my own face fall when reality comes crashing back down on me.  
  
"What?" Kellin says. "Did I do something?"  
  
"No," I assure him. "I was just thinking. About all of this. Like…what happens with Oli? Are we just gonna hide our relationship from him forever?"  
  
"For as long as we possibly can," he says. "But hey. It’s still the weekend, babe. Let’s save the worrying for tomorrow, ‘kay?"  
  
I nod slowly. “Okay.” I kiss him on the cheek. “Look, I’m really sorry. For worrying all the time.”  
  
"You don’t have to apologize for something you can’t help," he says, repeating back to me the words I said to him this morning. Then he kisses me again, finishing off what is probably one of the last few peaceful nights I’ll have for a while.


	25. Please Stop Thinking

Monday mornings are always filled with dread, but this Monday morning in particular just doesn’t feel promising at all. It’s the kind of feeling that makes me want to sink into my bedsheets and just cease to exist for a little while. Unfortunately, I can’t do that, though I doubt it’ll be the end of the world if I skip one day of school. Kellin won’t, though, as far as I know, and I don’t want to abandon him. (Plus, calculus is starting to really kick my ass, and missing a lesson probably wouldn’t help.)  
  
So I go, albeit very begrudgingly and with much internal complaining. I don’t know what terrible thing I expect to happen today, but I know that something is going to happen. And whatever that “something” is, I’m not ready for it.  
  
The guys seem to notice the change in my attitude, but I’d be lying if I said that I’m the only one in an odd mood. Everyone in the car has a more serious air to them, as if we’ve all got something on our minds. Most likely, it’s the same thing.  
  
We don’t really talk about it, though, and the quiet is almost suffocating. I want to say something, anything, but I don’t know what to say. So I keep my mouth shut, breathing deeply in an attempt to keep myself calm and stop myself from thinking about things that probably, hopefully, won’t happen. If there’s one thing I’ve discovered, it’s that breathing exercises don’t really help; not for me, at least.  
  
I manage to console myself a little with thoughts of last night, of Kellin’s soft lips and snowy hair, of the childish wonder in his eyes as the flakes fell down around us both. I want those moments of bliss back. I want peace, whether it’s with him or someone else or just by myself. I guess that’s a lot to ask, though, when there are so many things I could worry about. It’s like as soon as I get rid of one problem, it just makes room for me to think about others. Kellin and I may be back together now, but that’s just allowing me to think about the consequences of it. What if Oli finds out about us somehow? Or what if he pieces it together on his own? What am I even supposed to do about all this?  
  
My mind is running through “what if” scenarios by the time we get to school, and as much as I want to meet up with Kellin, I know that probably wouldn’t be smart. He must be thinking the same thing, because he’s not hanging around by my locker like he used to do. Part of me wants to go and find him, just to make sure that everything is okay, but I hold myself back. He’s probably fine, and it wouldn’t do any good to possibly expose myself. At the very least, I’m tempted to send him a text, but if he’s with Oli, he could get into trouble. I don’t know if Oli would insist on reading Kellin’s messages, but I don’t want to take any chances.  
  
That’s the most annoying thing: I’m paranoid about doing something, but I’m also paranoid about what could happen if I  _don’t_  do something. I can’t win.  
  
Jaime and Tony disappear at some point, and that just stresses me out even more. I mean, for all I know they could just be making out in the bathroom or something, but if they are, that’s a problem. They can’t make their relationship too obvious, and if they’re constantly sneaking off alone, someone—specifically Oli—might notice a pattern.  
  
It’s times like these that make me miss my drugs the most. You know what drugs always did for me? They shut my brain up.  
  
I text Jaime asking where he and Tony ran off to (assuming that they ran off together), but he doesn’t respond until the very beginning of first period, and even though I can’t actually hear him, I can tell how frantic he is just from the message:  _Oh my god oh my fucking god I’m so stupid I never should’ve suggested that it was such a terrible idea why did I do that why did we do that_  
  
Yeah, he is definitely not calm.  
  
My heart beats faster as I hide my phone under my desk and try to respond as quickly as I can:  _Do what?? What happened?_  
  
He’s fast, but not fast enough, and it’s agonizing to have to wait the thirty seconds or so that it takes him to reply. I sit in the back of the class, so hopefully not too many people will notice me quietly losing my shit.  
  
 _Okay yeah so like I said it was a dumb idea but I suggested that me and Tony go somewhere private and we ended up in a supply closet (how stereotypical is that?) and ya know everything was good but I guess someone saw us going in there or maybe heard something I don’t know and then I heard someone calling for Oli but I couldn’t really hear what they were saying and before I could do anything Oli came in and saw me kissing Tony and pushed him away and just started kissing me right in front of him and oh my god I’m so stupid I couldn’t help myself of course I had to do something during school and we’ve only been officially dating for TWO DAYS and I already fucked it up oh my god_  
  
I try not to show any sort of physical reaction, but inside, I’m freaking out. Mike used to always tell me that most of the things people worry about never happen, but I was right this time. I was afraid that Jaime and Tony would get caught, and they got caught. Still, I try to make my reply seem calmer than it is.  
  
 _Ok what’s going on now? What do you think Oli’s going to do?  
  
Well after that whole thing he said something about how I’d pay for it later…I don’t know what exactly he means but I’m kind of freaking the fuck out because this has happened with other guys before and he’s usually not one to just let it slide. I think I can handle it though._  
  
Of course he’d say that, always the one to push people away in favor of figuring things out on his own. I already know what he’s going to tell me, but I ask him anyway:  _Is there anything I can do?  
  
No sorry. I’ve got it all under control don’t worry. I always have and I’m not letting that change._  
  
Kellin said the same thing on Saturday—that he had it all under control. But he doesn’t, really, and I don’t think Jaime does, either, as much as he’d like to believe it.  
  
The rest of the day is a stress-filled blur of not paying attention in class because I’m too busy worrying myself to near-death. Jaime and Tony don’t interact with each other at all, Tony going as far as sitting away from the rest of us. Kellin does, too, to keep up the illusion that he and I are still broken up (though he and Tony don’t sit together—that might look suspicious). It pisses me off, how much this is affecting all of us. I just want everything to be okay.  
  
I’m not much better when I get home, and after a few hours of locking myself in my room and trying to focus on my homework, I give in and text Jaime, asking him if he’s working tonight. I’m hoping that he’ll say he isn’t, but of course I’m not that lucky—he’ll be at the Black Mamba.  
  
Our conversation is short. He assures me that he’s fine, that nothing bad has happened, but that doesn’t help much. Hell, for all we know, Oli could be making us wait a while before he does anything, lulling us into a false sense of security before he strikes.  
  
There I go again.  
  
After I eat dinner, I can’t help it—I text Kellin. His response takes a while, though, and in my chaotic and panicked state of mind, I’m at the point where I’m practically imagining the ways that he could’ve possibly died. Fortunately, though, he does respond, saving me from an internal debate about whether or not to attempt resurrection.  
  
 _hey hi srry abt that im working @ lester’s 2nite & im takin a short break atm so i only just now saw ur message. hope it didn’t freak u out 2 much. i kno how u r esp w/ everything thats goin on rn.  
  
No it didn’t freak me out that much,_ I lie.  _I was just wondering how you were doing, after everything. Do you know what happened with Oli and Jaime this morning?_  
  
His response is slower, and I can imagine that it’s probably because he’s talking with other people at Lester’s. He might not have many friends outside of work, but when he’s at the club, I know he’s completely in his element, confident and social and aware.  
  
 _yea he was talkin 2 me abt it earlier. he was rly pissed & he didnt tell me what he was gonna do but ive seen what hes done 2 other guys so ive got an idea. it depends how much he cares abt the dude & how much he thinks the dude deserves. jaime has never done anything like this b4 & hes clearly scared out of his mind so oli might let him off easier. but u & i should still probs keep a low profile esp now. im his fav & hes still suspicious abt me. like when he was talkin abt jaime he was like “now U would never do anything like this bc u kno better than that right kell” & it def sounded like a threat._  
  
His message calms me down slightly at the thought that maybe Oli won’t be as hard on Jaime as he could be. That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s safe, though. Just  _safer_. But at least it’s something, I guess.  
  
Then a second message appears:  _kk i should probs get back 2 work now. might stop @ the black mamba l8r just 2 see whats up & if jaime is ok. idk. dont worry 2 much pls. ily_  
  
Even with everything going on, the little phrase “ily” still makes me smile a little. He asked me last night during dinner if it was okay for him to text that acronym to me, both of us agreeing that it’s not the same as, well, the actual phrase that it stands for. We may have said before that we were falling in love with each other, but “I love you” has never crossed my lips or his. I think we can both sense the importance that those three simple words hold for us.  
  
I text him back in the same style that he does, just to tease him:  _thx. ily2_  
  
A second later, he sends me a heart eyes emoji, along with a waving hand emoji, as if to say “goodbye.” What a dork.  
  
The brief moment of sweetness is short-lived, though, overridden by a feeling of uselessness, as if there’s nothing I can do to be productive or helpful in this situation. Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m heading downstairs, prepared to go to the Black Mamba. It’s probably a bad idea, but I can’t help myself. I’ve been falling apart all day, and now I’m grasping at straws in a desperate search for some sense of calmness or sanity.  
  
I almost want to talk to Mike before I go, but he’s been especially uncooperative with me lately. He hasn’t talked to me about Jaime, and most of the conversations we’ve had are only the necessary ones. So I just leave without a word, wondering why we can’t all have a perfect family life like on TV, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to fix it.  
  
The Black Mamba isn’t too crowded, but that doesn’t lessen the feeling of dread that I get just from going in. My eyes scan the place as I make my way around, searching for a familiar face. I don’t know what I expect to find here except for the usual, but I have to be certain.  
  
Sure enough, before too long, I see Jaime in classic stripping attire (which isn’t that much), entertaining one of Oli’s posse. Then I notice Oli standing against a nearby wall, looking at Jaime with contempt and satisfaction.  
  
I want to get Jaime alone, but he seems to be rushed, going from one person to the other—and so far, all of his customers are part of Oli’s gang (though Matt Nicholls is absent—I wonder what excuse he made for this one). They don’t seem to be paying him, either, from what I can see.  
  
I haven’t been watching him for very long, but I’m already sick of it. The very moment that he finishes his lap dance and stands up, I rush up to him, not caring how anyone else will react to me being here.  
  
"Hey," I say, tapping him on the shoulder. He spins around, looking startled before relaxing slightly once he realizes that it’s me.  
  
"Oh," he says. "Hey. What are you doing here?"  
  
"Yeah, really," Oli says, taking a step toward me. "What  _are_  you doing here, druggie?”  
  
"Like you can talk," I mutter. Louder, I add, "I want to speak with him in private."  
  
"Why in private?" Oli says, raising an eyebrow. "Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of all of us."  
  
"No, I really can’t," I insist. "Look, he’s not gonna tell me anything that I don’t already know. And vice versa."  
  
He regards us with uncertainty, but when his gaze rests on the confused and scared look on Jaime’s face, he seems to decide that we’re not up to anything—not anything that he can’t stop, anyway.  
  
"Okay," he says, pointing to a corner on the other side of the room we’re in. He can still see us, but with how loud the club is, he won’t be able to hear us. "Over there. Five minutes. No more."  
  
I nod, pulling Jaime over with me by the wrist, since he still seems to be mildly in shock. Once we’ve reached the corner, I turn to him. “Sorry about that. I just wanted to—I’ve gotta ask. What are they doing to you?”  
  
Jaime sighs, and for the first time I can really see just how tired and stressed and disheveled he is. “They’re making me only do shit for them tonight, or maybe a close ‘friend’ of theirs,” he confesses. “And they’re not paying me, either. Never have. I have to do a whole night’s worth of work to them when being around them is the last thing I want to do, and I’m losing money for it, too. Not sure if this is all they’re gonna do to me or if they’ve got something else planned, but it sure as hell isn’t fun.”  
  
I just shake my head in awe. “They can’t just treat you like that.”  
  
"Yes, they can," he says, and the grimness and acceptance in his eyes takes all the anxiety I’ve been trying to hold back and shoves it right into my face.  
  
"No, they can’t," I say desperately, my voice cracking. "I can’t believe—have you really just  _accepted_  all this?”  
  
"I have to." He shrugs. "I’ve come to terms with it. They own me. I can’t have anyone else. I’ve learned my lesson."  
  
It’s fucking me up, the way he’s speaking. “What did they—Jaime, what did they do to you?”  
  
"Nothing too much worse than what they usually do," he says casually.  
  
All of a sudden, there’s a hammering in my chest and an awful feeling in my stomach, my head spinning and everything starting to blur. I actually feel like I’m going to be sick. “Jaime, you can’t—they can’t—”  
  
"There’s nothing we can do, Vic," he says, starting to sense that there’s something wrong with me. "Just—hold on. I’m fine, okay? Look. I’m fine. I know what I’m doing. I told you, I’ve got it all under control."  
  
"Okay," I say weakly, but I don’t really believe it. "Okay. Okay." I’m trying to breathe slow, even though it’s never worked for me before. I’m trying to focus, trying to count, trying to do something, but it’s not working. I still feel sick, my breathing still switches to a pace that’s way too fast to be healthy—and this is the part where I used to pop too many pills to get the feeling to stop.  
  
"I’m gonna—I’m s-sorry," I stammer out, and then I just completely abandon him, tripping over my own two feet to get to the bathroom so that I can get my bearings.  
  
There isn’t anybody in here, but it wouldn’t have mattered if there was. I rush over to the sinks, leaning against them and feeling like I’m going to pass out at any moment. The whole world is spinning, my gut is twisting, my head is pounding almost as hard as my heart, and at this point, I think I’m hyperventilating.  _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Not tonight. Not ever._  
  
I catch a glimpse of my pathetic reflection in the mirror, and I cringe at what I see, messy hair and dark circles under my eyes and a flushed face covered in sweat. I’m a shaking wreck, and it’s been building up to this all day, and I don’t know how to deal with it.  
  
I close my eyes and lean my head down a little, letting my hair fall into my face. A small, pained whine escapes my lips without my permission, and now I feel like I’m going to start crying, or maybe I already am. There are so many frantic thoughts in my head, but one of them, a familiar one, stands out clear as a bell:  _I just want my pills. I just want my pills._  
  
And here it is, the real reason behind my drug addiction. I couldn’t deal with everything that was being thrown at me, and why couldn’t I deal with it? Because my brain never shut the fuck up, and it led to shit like this.  
  
People have always said that it was annoying and that I should learn to just let loose, but it’s not that easy. I don’t want to be trapped in my conscience. I don’t want it to control me. But the only things that ever helped me with that were the drugs.  
  
And for a chance to feel okay, a chance to block out all the noise in my mind for once in my life…well, I’d do anything.  
  
I’ve always said that overthinking is my best talent.


	26. Breathe In, Breathe Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok yes i put a reference to the SWS song “2 Chord” in this chapter bc the line fit the scene so well and i couldn’t resist i am tRASH and this will probably be the first and only time that i consciously put a song reference in this fic (not counting chapter titles) so yeah here u go goodbye

The worst part about this is that I know exactly what’s happening—it’s not like this is new to me. It’s just that I can’t stop it.  
  
I try the breathing thing, which doesn’t work, of course, leaving me possibly even worse off than I was. Now on top of everything else, I’m thinking that I must be absolutely hopeless; breathing is the one thing people always tell you to do when something like this happens, but it doesn’t work for everybody, and it’s never helped me. I must be broken, malfunctioning, shutting down, a few seconds away from dying—obviously that’s the only explanation, the only reason for all these alarms going off in my head. Deep down I know I’m just crazy, but that logic is overridden by the thoughts of danger that probably isn’t real—it’s real as hell to me, and it’s absolutely terrifying.  
  
The bathroom door bursts open, causing me to jump and let out a yelp, my heart pounding harder than ever, if that’s even possible. Kellin is standing there in the doorway, with Jaime right behind him.  
  
"Vic," Kellin says softly, and I can’t help but want to run and hide. I’m supposed to be strong for the both of us. I can’t let him see me like this. I can’t let Jaime see me like this, either—he’s already seen enough.  
  
"I—I—" I want to say something, but my throat is closing up, and it feels as though I’m trying to breathe in rocks instead of air. "Kell—"  
  
Kellin glances at Jaime. “You might want to leave,” he says. “Don’t worry. Seriously. I’ve got this.”  
  
Jaime stares at him and then at me, and I take a step backwards, automatically thinking that he’s judging me. I know he’s not a threat, but it feels like he is.  
  
After a long moment, he nods slowly and reluctantly, and then he’s gone, and it’s just me and Kellin, who closes the door.  
  
"I—" Now I kind of want to leave the bathroom, but I don’t know where else I’d go, and this is probably the closest place that’s relatively calm. Plus, he’s sort of blocking the doorway.  
  
"Vic," he says, holding his hands up, as if to show that he’s not going to hurt me. "It’s okay. I’m here. Do you want to sit down?"  
  
He’s speaking to me so calmly. I’m actually jealous of him.  
  
"Uh—uh huh," I say, my voice shaking and my hands still trembling.  
  
Kellin takes a small and slow step closer to me, reaching out tentatively. “Is it okay if I touch you?”  
  
I nod. “Uh huh,” I repeat, trying desperately to calm myself and instead making it even worse.  
  
"Okay. Here. Let me help you." He takes another few steps, lightly taking me by the shoulders and helping me to sit down on the floor with my back against the wall. I could probably do that myself, but right now, I’m just thankful that he’s here and that he seems to know what he’s doing.  
  
"I—I—" I’m still trying to form a coherent sentence, but everything is hot and spinning, and I swear there isn’t any air in this room, but that doesn’t make sense because Kellin is right next to me and he’s breathing perfectly fine. Once again, it must be me that’s fucked up, and it makes me wonder if any of this is real at all or if I’m just out of touch with the rest of the world.  
  
"Hey. Hey. It’s alright." His voice might be calm, but it’s also firm, as if he’s trying to keep me grounded. "You’re right here, and I’m right here with you, and whatever it is, I promise that it’s not going to hurt you. It’s scary, but it’s not going to hurt you. You’re going to be okay." He’s down at eye-level with me, gently taking my shaking hand and locking his reassuring gaze with mine, and I’m just trying to keep his words in my mind, trying to use them in place of the awful thoughts flooding me.  
  
"Th-thank you," I stutter, finding it slightly easier to breathe when I have something—or someone—to focus on other than my own panic. "P-please don’t leave m-me."  
  
"I won’t. I promise you," he assures me. "Do you mind telling me what happened, or would you rather not?"  
  
I just shake my head, and he nods, seeming to accept it and move on instead of continuing to ask me about it. “Okay. Has this ever happened to you before?”  
  
"Y-yeah."  
  
"And what do you usually do when this happens?"  
  
Guilt washes over me at that, and I think he notices my body tensing up, because he squeezes my hand in a comforting gesture. “I—” I almost can’t bring myself to say it. “I get high.”  
  
I can see the realization on his face when the confession leaves my mouth. All of a sudden, I think he understands everything.  
  
"I’m—I’m awful," I say, feeling myself start to spiral back down just as I try to pull myself up. "I’m just—fucking—"  
  
"You’re not awful," Kellin says, still looking me right in the eyes. "You make mistakes. You’re not hopeless or worthless, okay, Vic?"  
  
When he says my name, his voice cracks slightly, his eyebrows knitting together in serious concern for a split second. “I—I’m sorry,” I say pathetically. There are so many different things I could apologize for, so I just leave it at that.  
  
"It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay." He presses a quick, soft kiss to my forehead and lightly runs his fingers through my hair. I close my eyes, trying to focus only on those gentle touches and the small comfort that they bring. It’s a welcome distraction, even if it doesn’t help that much. It still helps a little bit, and at this point, I think I need every ounce of help I can get, though I’ll probably never admit it.  
  
Kellin subtly switches his position so that he’s sitting next to me against the wall. “Here, let me…” he starts, reaching around me, and I sit forward slightly, letting him slowly rub my back to calm me down. “ _I’m not leaving, I’m not leaving,_ ” he sings quietly, his voice high and sweet. “ _I’m staying here…_ ”  
  
I don’t know what he’s singing or what could have possessed him to do it, but the words are soothing, especially because that’s exactly what I want him to do: stay here. I’ve had people try to help me with this before, only to suddenly say, “Hold on, I’m gonna leave you alone for a couple minutes.” That’s the last thing that’ll help, leaving me alone with the thoughts that are trying to kill me.  
  
After a few more minutes of him talking to me, telling me over and over again that he’s here for me and that I’ll be okay, I think I can feel myself gradually coming back to reality. My breathing has slowed and the world isn’t spinning as much, and I don’t feel as sick and scared and wrong as I did. All those feelings are still there, but they seem to be subdued, as if my body is simply too worn out to keep on panicking. I take a moment to look around, trying to get a grip on the world.  
  
"I—I can’t believe you had to see me like that," I say, my voice cracking a little, suddenly feeling fucking awful.  
  
"It’s okay. Really." After a short pause, he adds, "I think you should go home."  
  
"Um, okay," I say slowly, not wanting to admit that I don’t really want to be alone after all this. I mean, technically Mike is still at the house (as far as I know), but with the way he’s been acting, it’s almost as if I’ll be alone. Besides, he doesn’t really know how to deal with me when I’m like this. I’m not surprised— _I_  don’t even know how to deal with me.  
  
As if reading my thoughts, Kellin says, “I can come with you if you want me to. We’ll have to be careful, since Oli’s group is out there and they might see us leaving together, but…”  
  
"No, it’s fine," I say quickly, though I really do want him to come with me. I don’t want to inconvenience him even more than I already have.  
  
Kellin stares at me for a few more seconds, seeming to sort of analyze me. “I’m coming with you,” he says definitively. “Just let me text Phil first.”  
  
He takes ahold of my hand again, using only his free hand to type (a quite remarkable feat). I can’t see what he’s saying, but it’s probably something like this:  _srry phil i cant come back 2nite. vic almost died & now im going home w/ him bc he cant take care of himself._  
  
I take a shaky breath, letting out a soft, bitter laugh. Kellin glances at me and then back at his phone. “Phil says he hopes you feel better soon,” he says. “I told him you were sick and I had to be a dutiful boyfriend and take care of you. Which isn’t really a lie. I thought he would understand. Plus, it’s getting late, and it wasn’t that busy at Lester’s anyways. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if I left early.”  
  
"Oh," I say, my voice quiet and kind of scratchy. I smile a little. "Okay."  
  
Then Kellin stands up, taking my hand and gently pulling me to my feet. I’m still kind of shaky, but his grip helps to steady me. I can’t help but turn to look at our reflection in the mirror, suddenly noting how good Kellin looks, plus the fact that the black eye seems to have pretty much disappeared because of all the makeup—I didn’t really think about it until now. I, on the other hand, still look like a fucking train wreck, all bloodshot eyes and sweaty hair sticking to my red face.  
  
Kellin lets go of me and then peeks outside the door to see where Oli and his group are hanging out. “They don’t seem to be anywhere in sight,” he reports. A few seconds later, he adds, “Okay, wait, I found them. They’re in a corner over to my left, sort of. Way on the other side of the room, though. Which is good, ‘cause that’s less of a chance that they’ll see us. So we can just walk out together.”  
  
And that’s exactly what we do. It’s terrifying, especially when I’m still in the state of mind that I’m in, but now I’m almost too wiped out by my own outburst to care. Almost.  
  
Luckily, we get out without a problem, Kellin quickly finding my car and leading me over to it. “I’ll drive,” he says. “I know the way to your place. Oli dropped me off at Lester’s anyways, before he went over to Black Mamba.”  
  
"Won’t he find out you’re gone, then? Later?" I say nervously.  
  
He shakes his head. “He usually leaves without me. I walk home or get a ride from someone else.”  
  
I nod and hand him my keys, trying not to think too hard about anything. There’s a heavy, tired feeling in my chest, and when I slide into the passenger seat and close the door, I sigh and close my eyes. I wish I could just stop existing right now.  
  
It’s weird to have Kellin driving for a change, and I feel guilty for that, too; he shouldn’t have to do this. He shouldn’t have to do anything for me.  
  
"Mike won’t rat us out, right?" he says when we reach my house, turning to face me in the car, his face illuminated by the dim glow of the porch light.  
  
"No," I say. "I made him promise not to. He’s probably locked in his room, so he might not even notice that you’re here."  
  
Sure enough, Mike is nowhere to be found when we walk in, but judging by the music coming from upstairs, he’s probably in his room. “Wow,” Kellin says. “That music’s so loud, we could probably have sex and he wouldn’t even notice.”  
  
I laugh a little, and he smiles in satisfaction. “I still love your laugh,” he says, moving closer to me and taking both my hands in his. All of a sudden, he seems shy and hesitant, his face heating up as he looks down at the floor. “You, uh…you deserve to laugh a lot.” He nods to himself.  
  
"Um—are you okay?" I ask, letting go of one of his hands to put my finger underneath and tilt his head up. What I see surprises me. He’s still smiling faintly, but it’s wavering, a sad sort of smile, and a couple of small tears are making their way silently down his cheeks.  
  
"Fuck," he says, wiping at his eyes. "I’m sorry. I’m just—I was just thinking about what you said."  
  
I narrow my eyes. “What did I say?”  
  
"When I asked you if that had ever happened to you before," he says, "and what you usually did when it happened…and you said you got high. It just sort of hit me hard." He pulls my hand a little. "I think we should, uh—should go to bed," he says, changing the subject. I know he doesn’t mean it in a suggestive way; no, tonight isn’t a night for sex. Tonight is a night for soft kisses and comforting gestures and simply sleeping in the same bed together.  
  
Mike’s music is louder the closer we get, so I knock on his door three times. That’s the signal we’ve invented, and within a minute, the music has been turned off—he’s probably switched to using headphones now. We might not really be talking to each other at the moment, but this code still stands. It’s kind of weird. I’m surprised that he actually shut his music off instead of just turning it up louder to spite me.  
  
I can only truly relax once Kellin and I are both in my room with the door shut and the lights off. We both just kind of fall into my bed, sighing in mutual relief.  
  
"Hey," Kellin says quietly. "Hey. Turn on your side. Like, facing away from me. I wanna do something."  
  
Curious and kind of confused, I do as he says, and a few seconds later, I feel his skinny arms wrapping around me. His chest is pressed up against my back, which is when I realize that we’re in a traditional spooning position—not much different from what we normally do, except this time, our positions are switched.  
  
"I wanna be the big spoon tonight," Kellin says.  
  
"What?"  
  
We both laugh at my outburst, which comes out sounding a lot more surprised than I intended it to. “You sound so offended,” Kellin giggles. “It’s like I’m trying to take away your dominance or something. It’s like, whoops, sorry, you can’t top me anymore because you were the little spoon  _once_.”  
  
"I’m just not used to it." But there’s a growing smile on my face for possibly the first time today.  
  
Kellin lets out another contented sigh, holding me protectively against him. “I just figured,” he says softly, “you’re the one always comforting me and holding me and protecting me. But after what happened tonight, y’know…why can’t I do the same for you? You seemed like you needed it.”  
  
I don’t say anything, mostly because I don’t know what to say. But Kellin seems to understand my silence, so we just lie there together.  
  
"What was that song?" I murmur, half-asleep. "The one that you sang to me?"  
  
"Oh—it wasn’t anything, really," he says. "I made it up. Just those few lines. I know singing and things like that help some people, so I just kind of made up a little melody. ‘I’m not leaving, I’m staying here…’ Because I felt like you needed to hear that. I don’t know. And I like singing. It’s more of a hobby, really, but yeah."  
  
"Wow," I whisper in disbelief. After a short pause, I add, "You really seemed like you knew what you were doing back there."  
  
"I’ve dealt with this kind of thing before," he replies. "With, uh…with myself. I knew what was happening pretty much as soon as Jaime told me—remember when I texted you earlier, and I said I might go over to the Black Mamba to see what was going on? Yeah, that’s why I was there. Jaime saw me almost immediately, and I guess he was on a break or something because none of Oli’s gang seemed to notice…but, yeah, he came over to me, said he thought something might be wrong with you. So we ran to the bathroom, and the moment I saw you, I just…it was like looking into a mirror. Things like that don’t really happen to me much anymore—it was the environment, I think, that caused it. So when we got away from it…yeah. It was better." He sighs. "But yeah. I learned to sort of control myself…and to identify symptoms in other people, too, especially since I study psychology."  
  
I nod slowly. “I…I’m sorry,” I say. “That you have to go through the same hell I do.”  
  
"I wouldn’t say it’s the  _same_  hell,” he says thoughtfully. “But it’s a similar hell, I guess, in some ways. Really, though…I haven’t had one of those in a while now. But I know what it’s like, so I feel sort of protective of you.” He laughs a little. “Is that dumb? I just want to make sure that…that if you have to turn to something to get through it, you know you can turn to me and not drugs.” He sounds sad now, reminding me of the tears from when we were downstairs.  
  
"I think you should talk to someone about this," he continues. "If you’re constantly worrying, if this happens often…"  
  
"It doesn’t happen that often," I insist, and it’s not really a lie. I can’t even remember the last time this happened before tonight.  
  
"Still." He holds me a little bit tighter. "You shouldn’t have to feel like this all the time, and there should be a safe way for you to feel better."  
  
Again, I don’t say anything. I just close my eyes.  
  
Kellin lifts my shirt up a little and starts running his fingers across my skin, rubbing soft circles on my waist. “Vic,” he says sleepily, “you’re so beautiful. You are so fucking beautiful and you deserve to have a nice life. Never forget that.”  
  
I take a deep breath, still feeling extremely shaken up. “What if” scenarios are going through my mind, but I manage to chase them away with the help of sleep and Kellin’s words. I’m not crying, but there’s a strange sort of feeling like I should be. My chest is heavy and my hands are almost shaking. I’m not going to break down again, though. I resent myself enough for feeling like this for no apparent reason.  
  
"Th-thank you," I breathe. When he doesn’t respond immediately, I start to think that he’s already asleep. Then he whispers something, too quietly for me to hear.  
  
"What?" I say.  
  
"I-L-Y," he repeats, spelling out the acronym; I can hear the stupid smile in his voice. "Heart-eyes emoji."  
  
I snort, covering my face with one hand. “I-L-Y-2,” I respond, playing along. “Two heart-eyes emojis.”  
  
Now we’re both giggling like tired idiots. I can hear Kellin’s laugh right next to my ear, can feel his lips brushing playfully against my neck, and I’ve decided that nobody is going to stop us from having moments like this.


	27. Fuck Everything

When I wake up the next morning, it takes me a few moments to realize that Kellin is gone. I sigh. If today is anything like yesterday, then I’m not too eager to get out of bed.  
  
After a few moments, I notice a piece of paper on the nightstand. The handwriting is distinct, and it doesn’t take me too long to realize that Kellin left me a note. He did this last time, too, and it makes me smile, lifting some of the stress off of my chest. Not all of it…but some.  
  
I start to read.  
  
 _Sorry for leaving you. I felt weird sleeping over on a school night, so I left after you fell asleep. Have I ever told you how cute you look when you’re asleep? Because you look really cute when you’re asleep.  
  
Also, I thought it’d look suspicious if we came to school together. So yeah. This whole thing is ridiculous, but believe me when I say I’ve tried turning to authorities before. They don’t help me, or anyone else in my situation. I think everyone here just thinks of it as this weird gay sex ring that they’d rather not get involved in, so they just ignore it and let it happen because it doesn’t concern them. I don’t know. Whatever. But it’ll be okay.  
  
And another thing: my black eye is starting to heal up, I think. Soon I’ll be hot again. Finally, some good news.  
  
See you around. xo  
  
-Kell  
  
P.S. Don’t worry. Next time you can be the big spoon. Ya know, only if you want. Or I can. Either way works._  
  
The tiny smile on my face is short-lived, but it’s there.  
  
I can’t help but think about what he said in the second paragraph, though, about the authorities not helping him. It freaks me out a little bit. We’re supposed to trust the authorities. I’ve never been good with trust, though, and what Kellin’s telling me isn’t helping much.  
  
Mike and I don’t talk much while we get ready. It’s not until we hop into the back of Tony’s truck that either of us says a word, both of us noticing it at the same time: Jaime isn’t in the passenger seat. In fact, Jaime isn’t here at all.  
  
“Woo-hoo!” Mike says, pumping his fist. “Finally, a chance at shotgun.”  
  
Tony just turns around to look at us, and there’s something different about the expression on his face. Mike, who was preparing to hop out of the car and steal shotgun, stops in his tracks.  
  
“Tony?” I say slowly. “You okay?”  
  
“Guys.” He sounds extremely distraught, voice shaking, which scares me–he’s always the calm and clear-headed one. “Something happened last night.”  
  
 _Oh, God._  Suddenly, I’m overcome with dread.  
  
“What—what happened?” Mike asks.  
  
Tony takes a deep breath. “Jaime, he—he tried to kill himself.”  
  
There’s a lump in my throat, a terrible feeling in my chest. Hoping I’ve just heard him wrong, I say, “What?”  
  
Mike follows a few seconds after, shock written all over his features: “ _Tried_?”  
  
“Yeah,” Tony replies, nodding and seeming slightly calmer. “He’s not—he didn’t—he didn’t  _succeed_. Luckily. But he’s not in the best shape. Overdosed on a bunch of pills, but not enough, apparently. I think he’s gonna be okay. I don’t know if he’s allowed to have visitors, but I’m gonna try after school, if either of you want to come with me.”  
  
For once, Mike is speechless, and so am I. It seems so unreal. I never pictured Jaime being the one to do something like this, and I don’t think Tony or Mike did, either. To be completely honest, they all probably expected something like this from me—I’ve even overdosed before—but not Jaime. Jaime was never serious up until recently. He was always generally cheerful.  
  
You think you know someone.  
  
“I—I’ll come with you,” I say to Tony.  
  
“Me too,” Mike agrees.  
  
Tony nods, and then we’re off, speeding down the road with an empty passenger seat.  
  
Mike doesn’t know all the details about Jaime, but I’m willing to bet that Tony has a pretty good idea of what’s going on. This was one of the many “what if” scenarios that ran through my mind last night:  _What if Jaime kills himself?_  
  
I remember trying to push it away before it had a chance to make a home in my brain, but really, it was this sort of thing that triggered my panic in the first place. It was the way he was talking, the way he was looking at me, the horror I felt that he had seemingly just accepted his role as an object. It was his hopelessness and insistence that this was just the way things were and there was nothing we could do to fix it.  
  
Once again, I think of what Mike used to tell me: that most of the things people worry about never happen. But it happened.  
  
My only source of relief is the fact that Jaime is still alive. I don’t know what I’d do if he wasn’t. Of course, I can’t help but blame myself for this, even though it probably would’ve happened no matter what I did. I can’t help but feel like I could have done something instead of freaking out. I saw it coming, even if I didn’t fully realize it. I saw it coming, and I should have done something to prevent it.  
  
Right?  
  
—  
  
We all go into Jaime’s room at the same time. He’s lying in a hospital bed, but he seems to be relatively awake. “Hey,” he says when he sees us, voice quiet and raspy, his gaze resting on Tony first.  
  
“Hey,” Tony says, his own voice equally soft. “How are you doing?”  
  
“Oh, you know.” He shrugs, rubbing his eyes and flashing a faint smile. “I could be better.”  
  
There’s the Jaime I’ve always known, the one who always tries to make light of a bad situation. It’s so strange, though, and almost unnerving, to see him trying to be cheerful about attempting to kill himself. He really doesn’t look so hot, and the obviously fake smile on his face only seems to make it worse.  
  
“Jaime,” I say slowly. “Can I, um…?”  
  
He must know what I’m trying to say, because then he nods at Tony and Mike. “Go outside for a couple minutes,” he says. “Real quick.”  
  
Tony and Mike exchange glances before doing as he says. Once they’re gone, I turn to him, and his smile fades. “Hey, Vic.”  
  
“This—this is because of Oli, isn’t it?” I say, getting straight to the point. “Jaime, what the fuck happened last night?”  
  
He sighs. “Okay, yes, I guess you could say that it was because of Oli. Nothing in particular really happened other than what you saw. It was just—I didn’t want to live this way, basically being his slave, especially not when he’s supposed to be punishing me. I wanted a way out. And this was the only escape I could find.”  
  
I’m not sure what’s worse, the fake smiles or the brutal honesty.  
  
“Please,” I whisper, a pain in my chest. “Please don’t try this again. Please don’t.”  
  
“I won’t,” he assures me. “It was a mistake. I know it was. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. It was late, and I was so burned out and freaked, and I just wanted everything to fucking end. But I know I’ve gotta stay. I was just—last night was kind of crazy, kind of intense…I wasn’t thinking straight. I was afraid. I wasn’t in my right mind. But…yeah. I think I still want to, like, keep living.”  
  
“Good.” I nod. “That’s good. Keep thinking that. ‘Cause there are probably gonna be days where you don’t want to keep living. And then you’ve gotta remember that offing yourself is not a good idea. Speaking from experience here.”  
  
My tone of voice is sort of light and kidding, but neither of us laugh.  
  
“Thanks for coming,” he says after a few seconds.  
  
I nod. “Thanks for not dying.”  
  
That makes him laugh, if only a little.  
  
When I open the door, I gesture for Tony and Mike to go in, taking their place outside and letting them do their thing. Mike comes out by himself not long after, explaining that Tony said he wanted to speak with Jaime alone. I expected that. I don’t really blame them, either.  
  
I’m feeling slightly calmer by the time Mike and I are back home, but not calm enough to stop me from texting Kellin, asking him if he heard about what happened to Jaime. He responds a couple of seconds later, saying that Gerard had told him about it. Then he asks me if I’m doing okay.  
  
I take a deep breath, trying to just relax.  _Yeah I think so. But you don’t have to worry about me just because of what happened last night. I’m fine now really. I talked to Jaime at the hospital today too, and I don’t think he’s gonna be trying this again anytime soon.  
  
kk well thats good…i shouldve seen this coming im sorry  
  
No no it’s fine,_ I reply quickly, prepared to make sure that he doesn’t blame himself for this.  _Don’t apologize when it’s not your fault. Jaime has his own issues to deal with and you have yours and you can’t be there for everybody._  
  
I can’t help but think that I should listen to my own advice.  
  
 _okok im sorry im just rly freaked out abt everything rn… & im so scared that some1 is gonna find out abt us pls no_  
  
I hate having to tell him this, but it’s the truth:  _We should probably just stay away from each other completely. In school and out of it.  
  
thats tru but i dont like thinkin that ill never get 2 c u ever i want 2 c u but im sosososo freaked out bc jaime tried to kill himself over what oli did or what hes planning 2 do & i dont want to feel like that ever again im afraid & its so fuckin dumb i shouldnt b afraid of some1 like this but its all so complicated & it shouldnt b this fucked up but it is & im so sorry u had 2 get involved w/ me im so so sorry_  
  
Even in text form and with all the ridiculous intentional spelling errors, I can hear him saying this in my head, talking fast with a shaking voice and an open face and sad, wide eyes. I want to pull him in close and comfort him with physical touch, my arms around his waist and his head against my chest, but I can’t. The most I can do is hope that my words will be enough.  
  
 _Hey it’s okay. It’ll be okay. I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you and we’re gonna find a permanent way out of this so that we can just live like regular people. Just remember that. I’m assuming you don’t want me to come over or anything?_  
  
It takes him a little bit longer to respond.  _thank u sm vic. rly ur gr8. but no dont come over, im fine. i agree w/ u that we might have 2 stop seeing each other so often so 4 2nite im just gonna text u until i go 2 work k? dont worry abt me pls & dont come out 2 either of the clubs lookin 4 me like u do sometimes. ill b ok. i kno how 2 handle these things_  
  
It’s really hard to resist the urge to be by his side constantly just in case something bad happens, but I agree with him. It might be for the best if we saw each other as little as possible to keep up the act of being broken up.  
  
But that doesn’t stop me from sending him the phrase “ily” right before he has to leave for work.  
  
—  
  
The rest of the week is surrounded by a dark, ominous sort of feeling. It’s like I’m waiting for something to happen, but I don’t know what it is yet. Kellin and I stick to our agreement and try to stay away from each other as much as possible, which is harder than it sounds. If we were still openly dating, we probably wouldn’t be around each other constantly, but forcing ourselves to stay completely away just seems to be making us want to be closer to each other. This might also have something to do with my constant fear that something bad could happen to him when I’m not near him that I could’ve prevented if I had been.  
  
Mike and Tony both withdraw into themselves even more than usual. Even though we know that Jaime is going to be okay—he’s even back in school by Friday—the thought of him purposefully overdosing on pills still hangs in the air around us. With all this going on, I manage to finally fill Tay in on what’s been happening that she didn’t already know, though I say as little as possible about Oli and that whole situation. She’s happy that Kellin and I have worked things out and that he’s not exactly the dirty cheater we thought he was, but she’s also pissed about all the drama that keeps happening. She wants to just fix it all somehow, but I think she understands when I tell her it doesn’t seem to be as easy as it sounds.  
  
I stay home on Friday night, too burned out from recent stress to bother going anywhere. I sort of just want to sleep for a thousand years. Instead, though, I end up texting both Kellin and Tony at the same time, Tony talking about a video game and Kellin discussing outer space. I’m not sure if they’re actually as excited about these things as they act or if they’re just focusing on something else to distract themselves.  
  
It’s late when Mike comes into my room and closes the door behind him, looking completely freaked out and not exactly in the best physical state (or mental state, for that matter). He stayed home from school today because he said he was feeling shitty, so he mostly just slept and stayed in bed all day. I think it has something to do with the fact that he went to a party or something like that last night (to be honest, I’m not exactly sure what it was because he wouldn’t tell me—I don’t even know where he finds all these parties and things or how he knows this many people). All I remember is hearing him come home fairly late, make a lot of noise, and then proceed to crash in his bedroom.  
  
“Vic,” he says. “Something bad happened. Last night.”  
  
 _Of course something bad happened. It was a fucking party or some shit. Bad things always happen at parties._  I don’t say that, though. I just gesture for him to sit down next to me on the bed, and after he does, I instead say, “Well, what happened?”  
  
Mike takes a deep breath, looking everywhere but at me. “I—I don’t know how it happened, okay, it just happened. I just—I got drugged at some point, okay? I don’t know when or how—the most obvious guess would be that someone slipped it into my drink, so it was probably that—and then this random-ass dude starts talking to me, right? I didn’t really recognize him, but I was all drugged up and I didn’t care and I didn’t know anything, so I just went along with what he was saying. What I didn’t realize was that he was friends with Oli, and he knew I had no brain-to-mouth filter at all at the moment, and he used that to his advantage.”  
  
I narrow my eyes at him, taking everything in (and making a mental note never to let Mike go to a party alone—or even with other people—ever again). “So you got drugged,” I say slowly. “And one of Oli’s friends just suspiciously starts to chat you up. What—what are you saying here?”  
  
He sighs, and I can tell that he really doesn’t want to say what he’s about to say. “I swear to God I didn’t mean to blow it,” he says quickly, and for the first time in a long time, I see the side of him that he doesn’t let anybody else see. He might act tough, but he’s my younger brother. I know him. His façade has completely dropped in front of me.  
  
“Like I said, I was drugged, okay?” he continues, definitely trying to beat around the bush. “I didn’t even realize what I was saying or what he was doing. But basically, he turned our conversation to you and Kellin somehow—I don’t remember much, and most of it was a total blur—and long story short…I fucked up. No brain-to-mouth filter. I—I mentioned you two dating. Okay? I know you two have been trying to keep that a secret for whatever reason—I still don’t even know all the details because nobody’s gonna fucking tell me— but I think that’s what this guy was trying to get out of me. Fuck. I think they already suspected it, and they drugged me so that they could use me to rat you guys out. And I’m sorry. But they know. They know that you and Kellin are still dating, and you’re just pretending to be broken up. They know now. And I’m so sorry.”


	28. Calm Before the Storm

My heart drops down into my stomach, and for a moment, all I can do is stare at him in disbelief as the words sink in. Then all I can think about is how hard it seems to be to keep a secret.  
  
“They know,” I say slowly once I can find my voice. “About me and Kellin.”  
  
Mike just nods, both of us too freaked out to speak. “I—” he stutters. “Vic, I—”  
  
“It’s—it’s whatever,” I interrupt, holding my hands up. “Okay? Whatever. We can’t change it now. Is there anything else?”  
  
He shakes his head. “I left after that. Had someone drop me off.”  
  
I take a deep breath, anxiously running my fingers through my hair. “Okay. I’m gonna text Kellin, tell him what’s up…and I don’t know what we’ll do after that.”  
  
Mike gets up and then sits down on the floor with his back up against my bed. “Really, I didn’t expect for any of this to happen, and, yeah, I’m stupid, and you have every right to be mad at me, and I—”  
  
“It’s fine,” I say, even though things really aren’t fine. “I mean— _it’s not_ fine, necessarily, but it’s—people make mistakes, okay? And I get that.”  
  
Mike doesn’t say anything after that, so I send a quick text to Kellin:  _Okay, so it’s a long story, but basically, Oli knows about us._  
  
Kellin’s response is almost immediate:  _WHAT_  
  
Before I can reply, he adds:  _im coming over kk im coming the fuck over rn & anybody who tries 2 stop me is gonna get it & not in a good way_  
  
I know better than to object. There’s nothing that will dissuade him, and in a way, I’m kind of glad. Now I definitely want him around me all the time.  
  
“He’s coming over, apparently,” I tell Mike.  
  
Mike sighs. “He’s pissed, then, I assume?”  
  
“Less pissed, more panicked, I think. I didn’t get a chance to tell him the whole story, but he’ll want to know when he gets here.”  
  
Sure enough, ten minutes later, there’s a fast, urgent knock at the front door. When I open it up, Kellin rushes into the house, pulling the door closed behind him. “Tell me how the fuck this happened,” he demands, whirling back around. His voice is harsh, but it’s also shaking, and one look at his face gives away just how distressed he is.  
  
“That’s something you’ll have to ask Mike,” I say, taking his hand.  
  
“Mike?” he repeats as I lead him upstairs. “What does he have to do with…?”  
  
Once we’re all in my room, Mike sitting in the same spot, Kellin next to him on the floor, and me sitting on the edge of the bed again, Mike retells the story, though a bit faster this time. He doesn’t even get a chance to apologize—or say anything else at all, really—because Kellin blows up as soon as he realizes what happened.  
  
“You  _what_?” he screeches, standing up. Mike and I both stand up, too, Mike looking like he’s preparing to defend himself.  
  
“Kellin,” I say. “It’s—”  
  
“Shut up!” He pushes me away, hair falling messily into his face.  
  
“Kellin, you have to understand…” To be honest, I’m not quite sure how I intend to finish that thought, but he doesn’t give me a chance to anyways.  
  
“No,  _you_  have to understand!” He takes a few steps toward Mike, and even though I don’t like to touch him when I know he doesn’t want to be touched, I can’t help grabbing him to hold him back.  
  
“You’re so fucking  _stupid_!” he continues, now talking to Mike. “Why did you let him take control of you like that? Why didn’t you get the fuck out of there sooner? Why did you even go in the first place? That’s s-so stupid, so—”  
  
“Kellin, stop it!” I yell, pulling him back farther and holding him against my chest. He fights to get out of my grip. I’ve seen him in many moments of hysteria, but few as bad as this.  
  
“Shut up, shut  _up_! You don’t get it! I’m not going back to that. I’m not—I can’t—no.  _No._ ” He shakes his head, reaching up and roughly pulling at his own hair.  
  
“Going back to what?” I ask, keeping my voice calm and steady.  
  
Kellin turns around and stares at me for a long moment, and then everything about him seems to deflate. “Nothing,” he says, sighing. He closes his eyes, his body seeming to relax against me.  
  
“I think you’d better go,” I tell Mike, who has been mostly just standing there, bewildered. “Before he kills you. We’ll figure it out.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Kellin blurts, opening his eyes and turning to look at Mike. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean what I said, okay? The words just sort of…came out.”  
  
I don’t think Mike really believes him, regarding him with what might be hostility. It reminds me of what he told me, about how it’ll take a lot more for him to trust Kellin again. Now he’s probably going to add that onto his list of reasons not to.  
  
Once we’re alone with the door closed, Kellin pulls away from me and sighs again, resembling more of a wounded puppy now. “I’m not sure why I felt the need to come over,” he says finally, shrugging. “Guess I just didn’t want to be alone. Or something. I didn’t really think it through. I just sort of lost it.” He bites his lip and sits down on the bed, his shoulders slumping in defeat and his hair once again hiding his face as he looks down at his hands, which are clasped together in the middle of his lap. “I’ve gotta stop doing that.”  
  
I sit down next to him, cautiously putting my arm around him. “Doing what?”  
  
“Letting my emotions get the best of me,” he says. “Losing control of myself.”  
  
 _Control, control, control._  It’s the one thing that he’s so desperate for, and it’s the one thing that he just doesn’t seem to have.  
  
“We’ll figure this out,” I say softly. “Okay?”  
  
“How?” he asks. “You keep saying that we’re gonna figure it all out, but we never do. I don’t know how, and I don’t think you do, either.”  
  
I don’t respond to that. We both know he’s right.  
  
Before I can say anything, Kellin’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He narrows his eyes in confusion as he pulls it out—according to what’s written on the screen, the person calling is none other than Matt Nicholls.  
  
“Oh,” I say. “Well, that’s good, right? He’s good. He helped me find you—when you were at the bridge. He’s the one who told me you might be there.”  
  
“Wait, really?” he says.  
  
“Yeah. Did I never tell you? He’s kind of…well, he doesn’t really want to be with the rest of the guys anymore.”  
  
Kellin nods slowly. “Oh. Wow. That makes sense. He’s never really talked to me about it, but it explains a lot about the way he’s been acting. I’ll see what he wants.”  
  
By that time, though, the phone has stopped ringing, so Kellin quickly calls him back and puts him on speaker. “Hello? Kellin, that’s you, right?” he says.  
  
“Yeah, it’s me,” Kellin replies. “I’m with Vic right now. We’ve got you on speakerphone. What is it?”  
  
“Oh, well, now I can tell you both at once,” he says, sounding slightly nervous.  
  
“Wait, tell us what?” Kellin asks. “If it’s about you and Oli and everyone knowing that Vic and I are still dating—we know. Like, we know you know. And, uh, I know that you’re on our side. I think.”  
  
“Oh,” Matt says. “Well, yeah, that’s mostly what I wanted to tell you, but I also wanted to tell you not to worry for the rest of the weekend about it. I swear I don’t know what Oli’s planning—in fact, I don’t think even Oli knows what Oli’s planning, which would be why he’s taking the weekend off to figure it out. Or something. That’s what he told me, anyway. He said that if Vic’s brother told you guys about what happened, or if you found out some other way…something about letting you be paranoid for a couple days. So I’m telling you not to worry about that for the next few days. Which sounds suspicious, because for all you know, I could be just trying to make you let your guard down, but I hope you both realize by now that, yes, I’m on your side. The rest of the guys don’t know I’m calling you.”  
  
“Well, you said he’d be at the bridge,” I say. “And he was. So I’d like to be able to trust you, Matt.”  
  
“But really,” Kellin adds. “Thanks for telling us. It, uh, lifts some of the weight off our shoulders. For now, at least. I’d like one last weekend before life inevitably becomes hell.” He laughs bitterly.  
  
“If there was more that I knew I could do, I would do it,” Matt says. “But you’re welcome. I’m going to talk to Oli about whatever he’s planning, see if maybe I can get him to at least lessen whatever ‘punishment’ he’s got in store. It probably won’t work, and I’ll have to do it in a way that doesn’t make him even more suspicious of me, but it’s worth a shot.”  
  
“Okay,” Kellin says. “That’s—that’s good. Don’t put yourself into too much danger.”  
  
“I won’t. I promise. Bye, Kell.”  
  
“Bye.”  
  
After he hangs up, we both just look at each other for a few moments before Kellin sets his phone down on the nightstand and says, “Dude, I’m so tired.”  
  
“Me too,” I agree, suddenly starting to feel how tired I am. It was late to begin with when Mike first came into my room, and now it’s even later.  
  
“I’m staying over,” Kellin declares, flopping down on the bed. He takes me by the hand and pulls me down with him, pecking me on the lips, a tiny smile on his lips. It’s not that he isn’t worried, I don’t think—judging by how he was acting ten minutes ago, he’s absolutely terrified. It’s just that he’s trying to pretend he isn’t.  
  
—  
  
I’m not sure how it happened, but I guess somewhere along the line, Kellin ended up sitting on my lap.  
  
We’re on my bed, my back up against the headboard, and he’s grinding himself against me, his wet lips roaming all over my skin. I reach down and place my hands on his hips, holding him on top of me. His hands are underneath my shirt, and he’s biting hickeys into my neck. I still can’t remember how we got to this point, but I’m not questioning it.  
  
Kellin lifts his head up, smirking and kissing me hard on the lips. One of his hands reaches around to touch the bulge in my pants—  
  
And then something wakes me up.  
  
It’s a sudden and rude awakening, too, and the only thing I can think is that I’ve just woken up in the middle of a wet dream. I’m sweaty and still turned on, and it’s dark in the room because we shut the lights off before we fell asleep.  
  
“Wow,” Kellin says, sounding amused. He’s lying right next to me, seemingly wide awake. “Want some assistance?”  
  
“Uh…” I’m not sure how to respond, instead glancing down at my pants.  
  
“Hm.” Without another word, Kellin shifts down and promptly starts undoing my jeans.  
  
“What are you doing?” I whisper, flustered.  
  
He grins up at me, his voice light and teasing. “I’m helping you out, you horny little shit. You know, unless you don’t want me to.”  
  
I nod quickly. “Oh, I want you to.”  
  
“Great.” With that, he pulls my pants and boxers all the way down and takes me into his mouth.  
  
I’ve had several blowjobs in my lifetime from several different people, but Kellin’s are my favorite so far. He holds onto my hips to steady himself, pacing his movements perfectly as his tongue glides from the base up, always making sure to cover every inch. When he starts sucking on the tip, I moan, reaching down and threading my fingers in his hair. I’m already hard from the dream, so I definitely won’t last long.  
  
Even knowing this, Kellin still gives it his all, head bobbing up and down as he expertly sucks me off. His tongue swirls around, going deeper, and I gasp when I feel myself hitting the back of his throat. “Fuck…”  
  
He pulls me out a little bit, but then he just keeps going, one hand pumping the half of me that his lips still can’t reach. I’m so close now, thrusting my hips up and basically fucking his mouth, and he takes all of it with ease, his moves matching my pace.  
  
“Kells,” I breathe, though I’m not sure where I’m going with it. “Ugh…”  
  
Kellin speeds up his hand and lets out a long hum like he likes to do. That’s always what seems to unravel me, and this is no exception—within seconds, I’m spilling into his mouth, and, of course, he swallows every last bit.  
  
I lie there for a few moments as I catch my breath, pulling my boxers and pants up. Kellin crawls back over to his original spot, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and smiling at me in satisfaction.  
  
I can’t help but think, suddenly, that maybe this isn’t fair.  
  
“I’ll do you,” I offer, but he quickly shakes his head.  
  
“No. It’s fine. I wanted to do that. Really. You don’t have to repay me or anything.”  
  
He and I both just sort of stare at each other for a few more seconds, and then I ask, “Why do you always feel the need to…?” Then I trail off, trying to figure out how to word it differently.  
  
“To what?” Kellin asks.  
  
“To, like…pleasure me,” I say. “Not that I don’t enjoy it, obviously, because I really do, but…why do you always…?”  _Fuck._  This isn’t going down well.  
  
But Kellin knows what I mean, and he simply shrugs nonchalantly. “I don’t know. It’s just what I do. Always pleasure other people. Like, that’s my job.”  
  
I frown at that. “But I’m not a customer.”  
  
He shrugs again, closing his eyes. Just when I think he’s not going to answer, he says, “I guess that’s just the way I am with people. Even if it’s not in a sexual way—though most of the time, it is—I always feel like I have to cater to their every need.”  
  
“Well, you don’t,” I say. “We’re in a relationship. We’re supposed to build each other up.”  
  
He smiles a little, his eyes still closed. “Forgive me for my lack of experience in that particular area. Most of my relationships have been casual and short-lived, so this is still kind of weird for me.”  
  
“It’s fine,” I assure him. “It’s a little weird for me, too. But we’re in it together. Like  _High School Musical_.”  
  
He smacks my arm playfully, giggling and calling me a loser, and I take that as my cue to end the conversation.  
  
–  
  
The next morning, Kellin calls Matt and asks if he can borrow his house for something tonight. I don’t know what it is, but he says it’ll probably bring back some weird memories.  
  
“Does this have to do with that whole skinny dipping thing?” I ask him as we’re hanging out in my room, both of us sprawled out on our backs on the bed.  
  
Kellin sits up, grinning knowingly. “It could. Or it could not. You’ll have to wait and see.”  
  
I roll my eyes. “This is definitely about the skinny dipping thing. That’s a pretty weird memory.”  
  
He flips me off. “Maybe, but you had fun. More fun than you expected to, anyway.”  
  
I shrug, staring at him for a few moments. “You called them your ‘boys,’” I say slowly, thinking of the way the “boys” treated Kellin that night.  
  
Kellin nods, his expression growing solemn. “It’s what I’ve called them for…a while. I didn’t know how to say it, but it felt weird to just say that they were my friends, so I called them my boys. Like I owned them.”  
  
“But you don’t,” I say. I don’t add what we both know, what I realized for myself that night: Kellin doesn’t own them. It’s the other way around. It always has been.  
  
He sighs, pushing his hair out of his face. “They won’t be there tonight, though. Just us.”  
  
“Aren’t you, y'know, worried?” I blurt. I can’t just  _not_  talk about it, though.  
  
“Well, yeah. But if what Matt said is true, then I want to make the most of whatever freedom we have before shit hits the fan.” He laughs a little. “And if I know Oli, shit is definitely going to hit the fan. But I say we have a little fun before all that happens. Like the calm before the storm or whatever.”  
  
Despite the constant anticipation in my mind—the constant feeling of waiting for the bad things to happen—I can’t help but agree with him. If we’re safe for the weekend, if Oli’s leaving us alone, then I don’t want to spend the time worrying over what’s going to happen.  
  
“In a way, it could be better once we know what Oli’s going to do,” he adds. “Then we’ll have a better idea of how to stop it. It’s kind of difficult to stop someone from doing something when we don’t even know what they’re going to do. Unless we just murder them, but that’s illegal, and I have enough shit that would get me arrested already.”  
  
I snort. “True.”  
  
Kellin keeps up his tradition of leaving my house before lunchtime, so I text Jaime after that, mostly just asking how he’s doing. He says that Oli hasn’t come after him since he got out of the hospital, and for now he’s trying to take it easy. Our conversations have been depressingly short lately, and I think it’s because neither of us really know what to say. I want to fix it. I want to fix all of it.  
  
After dinner, I drive over to Kellin’s house to pick him up, and then we head over to Matt’s place. “I’m not sure how he managed to convince his parents to leave for the night, but whatever,” Kellin says as we pull up to the empty house and hop out of the car. There’s a key under the mat, apparently, so we use that to get in.  
  
“Fantastic,” Kellin says, turning on the lights. “Now. To the pool we go.”  
  
“I knew it,” I tease as we open up the screen door and step into the warm room.  
  
“Yeah, but I wasn’t gonna tell you that.” He gestures to the pool. “Now. We’re gonna get naked. Both of us. And only us.” With that, he starts to take his clothes off.  
  
I shake my head in amusement. “You’re so weird.”  
  
Kellin puts his clothes in a pile, now standing fully naked in front of me. “Whatever.” Then he turns and jumps into the pool, disappearing for a moment in the clear blue water before popping his head up a moment later, laughing and giving me a thumbs-up. “Are you coming in or what?” he calls, his wet hair falling into his face.  
  
Somewhere in my brain, there’s panic and worry and fear. But he’s right—this is the calm before the storm, and I’m desperate for an illusion of calmness.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!” I call back, pulling my own clothes off and setting them down next to his. Then, without another thought, I jump into the pool, letting the cool water wash over me, drowning all my thoughts in a wave of chlorine.


	29. Crying Underwater

“Hey. Let’s play Marco Polo.”  
  
We’ve only been in the pool for maybe two minutes, swimming and splashing each other like children, when Kellin makes the suggestion. He’s rubbing water out of his eyes, his tousled hair dripping into his face, sporting a goofy grin that shows all his teeth. It’s the polar opposite from the anxious mess he was last night.  
  
I raise my eyebrow at him teasingly. “Marco Polo? Really?”  
  
“Yeah. Y'know, like, I close my eyes and say ‘Marco,’ and you—”  
  
I laugh. “I know how to play, Kells.”  
  
“Okay, good. I say ‘Marco.’ Go.”  
  
Swimming across the middle of the pool to the other end, I call back at him, “But what if we get into the deep end and you die because you can’t see?”  
  
“You mean you  _aren’t_  gonna be my knight in shining armor? Rude.”  
  
I laugh again, shaking my head at him. “Just close your eyes, Marco.”  
  
“Technically,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, “I think I’m Polo and you’re Marco. Because I’m calling your name. So I’m Polo, looking for Marco.”  
  
“Okay, but, like, wasn’t Marco Polo one person? The explorer or whatever? So, what, are there two Marco Polos now? Did he clone himself? Where did this game even come from?” At this point, we’ve done more debating than actual playing.  
  
Kellin flips me off. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I just realized that this might’ve been better with more people. But fuck it. I’m coming for you, Marco.”  
  
Less than a minute of fucking around later, Kellin somehow manages to grab me by the arm, both of us laughing our asses off, once again, like children. “Got you!” Kellin proclaims, opening his eyes and pulling himself closer to me as we rest near the edge of the pool. His skin is slick and smooth against mine, and I don’t notice my face heating up until he adds, “Why you blushing, loser?”  
  
I try not to focus on the fact that we’re both completely naked (it doesn’t really work). “Just not used to, uh, skinny dipping.”  
  
“Oh, that’s right.” He rolls his eyes. “You said last time that you thought it was kind of slutty.” He raises his eyebrows at me, but there’s still a smile on his face.  
  
I wince. “Oh, God. Look, I—”  
  
He holds his hands up. “Hey, I’m just messing with you, okay?” He kisses me on the cheek. “No hard feelings.”  
  
I can’t help but still feel awful about it, though. “I can’t believe you’d ever…” I start, before trailing off.  
  
“Ever what?” he asks, seeming genuinely interested in my answer.  
  
I shrug, unable to look right at him. “That you’d ever, I don’t know, like someone like me.”  
  
Kellin doesn’t say anything for a few moments. “I saw something in you, I guess,” he says softly, slightly shifting away from me and suddenly sounding distant. Before I can say anything, he dunks himself in the water, submerging himself completely. He stays down there for a while—not a dangerously long time, I don’t think, but still a little longer than average—before popping his head back up and gasping for air.  
  
“Um…you okay?” I ask.  
  
“Relatively speaking, sure.” There’s something different about him, but before I can put my finger on it, he goes back down again.  
  
When he comes up this time, his breathing has changed a little bit. It’s shallower, almost. “Fuck,” he mutters, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “What the fuck.”  
  
“What?” I say, taking his hand in mine.  
  
“Nothing. It’s just, like, everything that’s happening right now, I just kind of needed something else to focus on.” He takes a deep breath, rubbing at his eyes, and that’s when I realize that he’s been crying—not full-out sobs, but a few tiny tears that he doesn’t want me to see. “Ugh,” he groans. “Fuck off, emotions. I was having a good time.”  
  
“I know the feeling,” I say, looking up at the sky through the transparent ceiling. “But here are some other things to think about. One, the stars are really pretty. Two, almost this entire room is see-through, which means that if the neighbors really wanted to, they could come over here and watch us swim naked.”  
  
Kellin snorts, a smile returning to his features. “Okay. True. I think this house is sort of farther away from the rest of the neighborhood, though. Plus, this room is in the back. I wouldn’t worry about it.” He glances up at the sky. “But you’re right. The stars are nice. Like you.” He sidles up next to me again, placing soft kisses on my temple and down to my jawline.  
  
“Oh, no,” I say, though I don’t push him away. “Don’t even think about it.”  
  
“Think about what?” He nips at my earlobe, his voice quiet and tempting and seductive. “The fact that we’re both wet, naked, and completely alone?”  
  
I’m just playing with him, really—there’s no use in denying that I want him, especially not with the way he’s acting. “Hmm…well,  _maybe_ …” Then I turn around to face him, kissing him fiercely.  
  
He wraps his arms around my neck and lightly pushes me up against the wall of the pool, sighing when I bite his lower lip. I run my hands down his back, grabbing his hips and pulling his body closer to mine. Breaking my lips away from his, I move to his collarbone, kissing it gently.  
  
“Holy shit, mark me up,” he says, his voice hot and breathy. “Let Oli know that you’re still my favorite.”  
  
I do as he says, biting at the skin of both his collarbone and his neck, savoring the soft sounds he makes as I leave multiple hickeys.  _Mine. You’re mine._  
  
When I’m satisfied with my work, I lift my head back up and kiss him on the lips again, pressing my erection right up against his and both of us moaning in response. Kellin grips my hair, using it to push himself deeper into my mouth, wet and warm. My one hand lightly grabs his ass, my other one resting at his upper back to hold him against me. The tiny noises that he makes in my mouth just turn me on even more.  
  
“Wanna make you feel good,” he whispers, breaking the kiss, his breath floating across my lips. “Really good…”  
  
And that’s the moment when his phone rings.  
  
“Fuck,” he says, glancing over at his pile of clothes—it must be in his pocket. “Nobody ever calls me unless it’s important.”  
  
“Oh, God,” I groan, in both annoyance and sexual frustration.  
  
Kellin looks back at me decisively. “Whatever,” he says. “Quick, okay, I’ll get you off and you get me off.”  
  
“Good enough,” I agree, wrapping my hand around him under the water and pumping him. He gasps, simply enjoying my touch for a few seconds before he reaches down and does the same for me.  
  
I can’t help it—I push myself farther into his hand, reveling in his expert fingers wrapped around my shaft, grabbing at my entire length, up and down, base to tip. With one hand, I give him the same treatment, using the other to pull him into me by the hair and resume kissing him once again. It’s sloppy and clumsy, but we don’t care; it’s exactly what we need.  
  
Kellin moves his lips down to my collarbone, doing to me what I did to him. I gasp when he starts biting, squeezing his shaft a little harder, causing him to moan into my skin. “Fuck, keep going,” he breathes.  
  
I pick up the pace a bit more, and he thrusts into my hand, his grip getting shaky as he continues to jerk me off. It only takes a few more flicks of my wrist for him to come undone, shooting into the pool. He takes a moment to calm down and catch his breath before returning to me, pumping me faster. I lean back against the wall, groaning as he brings me to my climax.  
  
From there, Kellin and I both climb out and head over to our clothing piles, drying ourselves off with nice white towels. “What’s Matt gonna do when he finds out we came in his pool?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Kellin laughs as he digs through his clothes in search of his phone. “He probably won’t be surprised, to be honest. Hopefully his parents don’t find out. But yeah. He’s used to people having sex in his pool.”  
  
I’m reminded of the first night I was here, when the boys kept making sexual comments about Kellin, touching him, smacking his ass, calling him their whore. Of course Matt would be used to it.  
  
“Huh. A text and a missed call from one of the guys at the Black Mamba,” Kellin says, staring at his phone.  
  
“What did they want?” I ask.  
  
“Says the place is short-staffed and they want me to come in and work tonight.”  
  
I bite my lip. “Are you gonna be okay?”  
  
“Well, yeah,” he says, though I can tell he’s a little unsure. “You can go home. I’ll be okay. I always am.”  
  
I nod slowly, not entirely convinced but not willing to argue. Telling myself that being with him would probably only cause more trouble, I start to put my clothes back on as Kellin texts the guy to let him know he’ll be coming.  
  
“It’s still only Saturday,” he points out when he’s done and getting dressed. “So, according to Matt, Oli wouldn’t be there. Or if he is, he won’t be doing anything out of the ordinary to me. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” He kisses me on the cheek.  
  
We leave Matt’s house after that; I drive Kellin to the Black Mamba and drop him off there, promising to pick him up when he’s ready. Then I go home, trying not to worry irrationally. This works for a couple hours, until I get a text from an unknown number.  
  
 _Hey Vic it’s Gerard (I found your number in Jaime’s contacts but shhh don’t tell him I was snooping through his phone for it). Normally I wouldn’t do this but I figured you’re close with both Jaime and Kell and it’s about them. There’s this sketchy guy at the Black Mamba (like even sketchier than usual) and Jaime and Kell are both hella freaked out about him. Like they’re not really showing it but I know them and they’re both acting weird around him and he’s focusing his attention on both of them. I’m guessing they know each other somehow. Any idea what the deal with them might be?_  
  
I narrow my eyes at the message. Jaime and Kellin probably both know quite a few sketchy people.  _What does the guy look like?  
  
Uhh he’s probably like 40-50 years old, grayish hair, a few tattoos, fairly average build, maybe a little on the tall side. One of those old weirdos that like ogling people half their age. Sorry this isn’t that much help but whoever he is he’s giving off some bad fucking vibes man_  
  
It isn’t ringing a bell. Most of the people that Kellin and Jaime have specifically mentioned weren’t that old.  _Are you sure this isn’t just another random creep? Maybe he just thought Kell and Jaime were the best-looking and singled them out and that’s why they’re acting weird. I can imagine anyone would be freaked out with someone like that.  
  
That’s a possibility but idk we deal with a lot of old creeps on a regular basis and these two usually handle it fairly well. But right now both of them look kind of like they just saw a ghost.  
  
Maybe I should come down there.  
  
Ok well personally I think that’s a terrible idea. You might get into trouble and if you don’t know who this guy is then there’s not much you can do except watch, which I highly do not recommend. It’s not like we can kick him out. For the most part, only the bouncers or the people who run this place can do that, and none of them really care about us. We’re just money-making sex machines. I’ll keep an eye on them and give you updates in between my own customers so I don’t get yelled at for not working._  
  
I don’t like not being there for Kellin or Jaime when there’s shit going down, but Gerard’s got a point, so I agree to his communication method. Throughout the night, I learn several things with his continuous updates:  
  
1) The guy hangs out for a while, a bit longer than most customers do, yet he only ever gets action from Kellin or Jaime.  
  
2) Jaime leaves at one point, and Gerard chases after him, worried that he might try to off himself again. He doesn’t. Instead, he downs four shots (regardless of what Gerard says to him) before returning to work half an hour later.  
  
3) Near the end of the night, Kellin seems to decide that he isn’t going to deal with this guy anymore and refuses to do anything for him. The guy calls him an “ungrateful bitch” (among other things Gerard can’t catch), and then one of the bouncers comes over and slaps Kellin across the face, telling him to get back to work. He does so, but focuses on only other customers, causing the guy to finally leave shortly after.  
  
4) Neither Jaime nor Kellin will tell Gerard anything about who the guy was.  
  
5) And none of the employees that know the guy’s name will tell him, either, because of some bullshit about confidentiality.  
  
At around the same time that my conversation with Gerard ends, both of us confused, Kellin texts me to tell me that he’s ready to be picked up from the club. I simply tell him that I’ll be right there, figuring that I can confront him about this on the way to his house. He might not tell Gerard anything, but maybe he’ll tell me. Gerard is one of his closest friends, though, so maybe this is a secret he and Jaime are keeping from everyone. I hope not.  
  
When I get there and Kellin climbs into the passenger seat, it only takes one look to see how burned out he is. It’s just in the way he moves and the look on his face. “You know, I probably could’ve walked home, but I don’t really trust this area at night, so…” He shrugs. “Sorry.”  
  
“It’s fine,” I reply, starting to drive away. “No trouble. I’ve been awake anyways.”  
  
“Really?” He rubs his eyes. “Doing what?”  
  
I figure I might as well just jump right into it. “Talking to Gerard.”  
  
He raises an eyebrow at me. “ _You’re_  the one he’s been texting all night? I thought he and Frank were sexting or something. How’d he even get your number?”  
  
“Apparently, he searched through Jaime’s phone for it.”  
  
Kellin nods. “Huh. So what were you guys talking about?”  
  
“Well,” I say slowly, “you and Jaime, basically.”  
  
His face falls—he immediately knows exactly what I mean. “I don’t want to talk about it.”  
  
I sigh. “Kellin, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me who this guy was.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter who he was, okay? It was just someone from…a while ago. Seeing him again freaked me out. But it wasn’t anyone special, and he usually doesn’t come to those types of places. He’s gone now. I’m fine.”  
  
“Kellin…”  
  
“Vic…” he replies in the same tone of voice, mocking me with a tiny smile that fails to hide his true emotions.  
  
“Really,” I insist. “It’s not good to keep hiding everything and pretending like nothing’s wrong.”  
  
“I can handle it, though,” he says. “You have to trust that I can make it through this. I can pull myself together.”  
  
“That’s what my mom said, too.” I don’t mean for those words to slip out, but they do, and they’re the truth: this sounds like what my mother said back before her addiction became an addiction, back when she told me it wasn’t going to get any worse. She lied.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Kellin says, lacing his fingers in mine.  
  
“It’s fine,” I say quickly, changing the subject. “Now. Who’s this bouncer that slapped you?”  
  
He laughs a little, though his free hand still reaches up to touch his cheek where he must’ve been hit. “Doesn’t matter now. I pissed on his jacket.”  
  
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Holy shit, what? How did you get away with that?”  
  
“It was hanging in a closet in the 'Employees Only’ section of the place, and I knew it was his, so I went back there and pissed on it. Never got to see his reaction, though, unfortunately.”  
  
At around that point, I reach his house, pulling up at the driveway. “Thanks,” he says, pecking me on the lips and hopping out of the car. “And thanks for earlier, too. It was fun. We should do it again sometime.”  
  
“Whenever you want,” I agree, and his sudden optimistic mood is so infectious that I almost forget who I’m talking to. I’m not talking to an optimist. I’m talking to the same person who cried underwater because he didn’t want me to see it.  
  
—  
  
“Mom.”  
  
I can’t believe I’m doing this.  
  
It’s Sunday morning, and my mother and I are sitting on the couch together, me about to tell her something important. Proper conversations with her are few and far in between, but I feel like she deserves to know about this. After all, he was her husband.  
  
“What is it?” she asks. Her voice is quiet and distant, as usual, but it’s the best response I’m going to get.  
  
“It’s…it’s about Dad,” I say slowly, taking a deep breath. Maybe this was a bad idea. It’ll probably just make her even worse. After all, ignorance is bliss, right?  
  
She nods. “I’m listening.”  
  
 _Just get it over with, Vic. You can’t turn back now._  “He cheated on you.”  
  
Her face doesn’t change, and after a couple of seconds, she simply says, “I know.”  
  
I just stare at her. “You—you  _know_?”  
  
She nods again, grimly. “I found out a month before he—you know.”  
  
Once it’s sunk in, I reply, “I found out a week before it happened.”  
  
“It was my fault he died,” she says, looking away. “I kept silent for a month, and then, on the day that he died, I told him that I knew. So he left, and he drank too much, and he crashed the car…” She shakes her head.  
  
It breaks me, seeing how much she still cares about him, even though she knows he didn’t feel the same way, even though it’s far too late now.  
  
“Mom,” I say softly, “I want you to let go. Of him. Of the guilt, the love…I want you to stop feeding that addiction of yours.”  
  
She turns back to me. “I don’t know how.”  
  
“I could teach you.” I can’t help but think about how it’s supposed to be the other way around.  
  
She just keeps looking at me, a scared and broken shell of a woman. “Please,” I add, my voice growing desperate. “I want—I want you to learn how to fix yourself.” I’m practically begging her now.  
  
She stares at me for a few more moments, and then she says, “No promises. But I’ll try.”


	30. Stay Away From Him

On Monday, Kellin and I don’t bother trying to hide our relationship anymore, which is probably a terrible mistake on our part. There’s not much of a point, though; Oli is the only person we’ve been trying to hide from, and he already knows.  
  
Kellin doesn’t say much of anything at all, which is strange and kind of concerning. He never was one to speak much in school, but I’ve seen him like this before, and it’s not the way he usually acts. Everything about him seems to have faded, his shoulders always slumped, his gaze always focused on the floor, his hair always hiding his face with him never bothering to brush it away, as if he’s just sort of physically deflated. And, of course, he plays it off like it’s nothing, just like he always does.  
  
I can understand his reasoning behind it; I really can. I know he just doesn’t want me to worry about whatever’s going on, wants to convince me that he has everything under control—and maybe he’s trying to convince himself of that, too—but, frankly, it isn’t really working. In fact, it’s probably making me worry even more that I don’t know what the problem is. He has to know that, but I don’t think he wants to talk about it because he never wants to talk about it. I do my best to respect that; God knows there are things I don’t want to talk about. Sometimes, though, it’s better to get the truth out instead of letting it eat you away. Kellin’s smart, and I think he knows that, too. He just doesn’t want to admit it.  
  
We’re standing by my locker now, neither of us saying anything, simply looking at each other in an odd sort of silence and a subtle refusal to go to our first period class until we absolutely have to. Kellin leans his head against the lockers, his arms crossed over his chest as he stares blankly across the hallway. There’s something different in his eyes, something desperate and wistful.  
  
“Hey,” I say quietly. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He’s already explicitly denied that anything is wrong, unsurprisingly, but I don’t want to just give up.  
  
“Yes,” he snaps, though his voice lacks his usual spark. “Swear on my life, Vic, I—”  
  
His sentence is interrupted by an obnoxious voice, belonging to a random guy whose name I don’t know. “Hey, trailer trash,” the guy calls, a smirk on his face. “When’s the last time you took a shower?”  
  
Kellin’s face turns bright red, and I narrow my eyes and turn to him, confused. “But, Kell,” I say quietly, “you don’t—”  
  
“Figures that the only person who’d ever be attracted to you is a total druggie,” the guy adds. “You two do meth and give each other blowjobs in the bathroom together?”  
  
“That’s not fucking funny,” Kellin mutters, his voice tiny and shaking. I’ll admit that that comment sort of got to me, even though I’ve grown used to things like that. It’s more of the fact that they’re using my weakness against him.  
  
“Whoops, sorry,” the guy says, rolling his eyes. “Did I hurt your feelings, princess?”  
  
He flinches at that word, though he tries his best to hide it. I’m about to step in when he grabs me by the hand, looking me right in the eye for the first time today. “I think we should go to class,” he says softly before letting go of me, abruptly spinning around, and rushing off without another word.  
  
I turn my attention to the guy, who has just begun walking away. “Hey, fuck off!” I yell after him, but he acts like he doesn’t even hear me.  
  
—  
  
 _u. me. bathroom. now_  
  
I get the text from Kellin near the end of my fifth period class, which is right before lunch. I’ve been trying to reach him all day, but he hasn’t responded to anything I’ve sent him. This message is random and kind of cryptic, but I can’t help but reply:  _Which bathroom? And why didn’t you respond to me??  
  
the 1 down the hall from the lunch room. and i turned my phone off this morning bc i didnt feel like dealing w/ any1 and only just now saw ur messages. srry i shouldve known u would text me  
  
It’s fine. Now what’s going on?  
  
shhh. u will c. hurry up tho. high school bathrooms are v rarely empty_  
  
With that being my only response, I take the bathroom pass and head out, wondering what could be so urgent that it has to be now instead of at lunch, which is in less than fifteen minutes.  
  
When I reach the bathroom, sure enough, it’s empty. “Kellin?” I say, glancing over at the stalls. I can see his shoes underneath the door of the second-to-last one, so I walk over to it, standing right in front of it. “What are you…?”  
  
Kellin opens the door and takes my hand, quickly pulling me inside the stall and closing it behind me. My back is up against it, and the look in Kellin’s eyes is completely different from the look that was in them this morning.  
  
“Hey, baby,” he says, leaning in close and looking me up and down. “You look like you could use some loosening up.”  
  
I know exactly where he’s going with this. “Are you sure?” I ask. “Earlier, you seemed a little…”  
  
“I know,” he says quickly. “But believe me when I say I’m okay now. Better than okay, actually.” He rests a hand on my hip, his mouth hovering over my neck as he starts placing tiny kisses on my skin. I shiver a little at his light, teasing touch as he makes his way up to my jawline and then to my lips.  
  
“What do you have planned in here, Kell?” I say, ready to lose myself in his kisses.  
  
Kellin raises an eyebrow suggestively. “That guy joked about blowjobs in the bathroom, so…”  
  
I think that at some point we should discuss what happened, but now does not seem to be the time—both of us are thinking with our dicks at the moment, and my dick apparently now wants Kellin’s mouth around it.  
  
“But what if someone…?” I start.  
  
Kellin shakes his head. “It’s almost lunchtime. Most people will just wait until then to go, or maybe the teacher won’t let them, depending on who it is, so we’ve got about a ten-minute time slot. Even if someone did come in, shit like this happens all the time. They probably wouldn’t even check to see who it was.” Before I can say anything in protest, he reattaches his lips to mine and starts fiddling with my jeans, undoing them and tugging at them. Then he gets down on his knees on the dirty bathroom floor, looking up at me with deceptively wide, innocent eyes through the tangles of his dark hair.  
  
“Go,” I say quickly, already feeling turned on. “Let me fuck your mouth.”  
  
“That’s the spirit,” Kellin says, a smirk on his face as he pulls my boxers down. “But getting my mouth fucked isn’t as fun as teasing the shit out of you.” With that, he presses his mouth to the underside of my shaft, taking his sweet time as his tongue makes its way around. He’s making me grow harder, and he’s doing it so slowly and lazily, dancing around every inch.  
  
When he’s done with all that, he places soft kisses on my tip, his lips just barely brushing it and making me want him even more. “Fuck, Kellin, just…”  
  
I don’t have to say anything else before he takes me in, wrapping his mouth around me, and I hold back a sigh of pleasure. Both his hands are on my hips, my thighs, starting to leave bruises as he goes up and down, pulling himself almost completely away before taking me back in. It’s fast and hasty, but that’s what I need right now, and I have to resist the urge to take control.  
  
I reach down and grab him by the hair, less to force myself deeper and more just to have something to hold onto. He hums in satisfaction and sucks me harder, gripping my hips tighter, and I moan at the vibrations—he knows it kills me every time he does that. Automatically, I jerk my hips up without warning, but it’s almost as if he expected it with the way he keeps going, deeper, not stopping even once.  
  
I’ve been trying to keep quiet, but I can’t help the soft moan that leaves my lips as I get closer. Kellin knows, of course, and moves his mouth faster, going deep and then pulling away, over and over. “Fuck,” I gasp, closing my eyes, and after a few more seconds, it’s over for me.  
  
As usual, he swallows like it’s nothing, releasing his mouth from my dick with a  _pop_  and grinning up at me. I quickly pull up my pants and boxers, and Kellin stands up. “That kid can kiss my ass,” he says simply, but there’s something about the way he looks at me. It’s that desperation again, and it makes me suddenly realize why he keeps doing these things: why he gave me a blowjob Friday night after a breakdown, why he turned to near-sex in the pool the next day after emotions started to get the best of him, why he did this almost immediately after a kid said things that rubbed him the wrong way. Sex is his way of coping with things—a distraction. He might enjoy it, but the reality is that the need for a distraction is the main reasoning behind these latest events.  
  
“Kellin,” I say slowly as we both step out of the stall. “Can I ask what that guy meant? When he said those things? And—and why they hurt you?”  
  
Kellin doesn’t respond at first, instead turning his attention to the mirror. “People used to call me their ‘princess,’” he mumbles after a moment of silence. “Back when things were a little different. It took me by surprise, being called that again.” He shrugs, his gaze shifting to the floor. “I don’t know how that guy knew about that shit, though. I don’t know him that well—like, he was never a part of that. Someone must’ve told him about it.”  
  
I nod, thinking about just how much of Kellin’s past I still don’t really know about. It’s fine if it’s something he doesn’t want to talk about, and I respect that, but things like this make me wonder what sort of hell he’s been put through.  
  
“What about the other things that he said?” I ask.  
  
Before Kellin can respond, the bell rings. “It’s time for lunch,” he tells me dismissively, and that’s all he says on the subject.  
  
—  
  
Kellin doesn’t really ignore me; he just doesn’t seem to make much of an effort to talk to me for the remainder of the day. I text him after school, hoping for something to work with, but all of his responses are short and detached. Eventually, I decide to just leave him alone, fearing in the very back of my mind that maybe I’m just annoying him.  
  
Mike still doesn’t talk to me much; at this point, I think he just doesn’t really know what to say to me. He looks at me with guilt and anger, and I’m not sure how to help him.  
  
On Tuesday morning, another guy I don’t know—different from the one who was bothering us yesterday—comes up to me at my locker while I’m waiting for Kellin to get there. He’s got a very similar smirk on his face, though, and similar cockiness, too. It’s as if almost everyone around me thinks they’re hot shit when they’re really just huge assholes.  
  
“What do you want?” I say bluntly. Whatever bullshit is about to spew out of his mouth, I don’t want to deal with it.  
  
“Your little whore is good,” he says, nodding in approval. “Real good.”  
  
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”  
  
“Got a tongue like a champion,” he adds. “Fucks like one, too. And he doesn’t even like me. He must be even better with you, ‘cause he actually enjoys it with you. Too bad you can’t have him all to yourself.”  
  
“I—fuck off.” I’m trying not to think about this guy having sex with Kellin, and it’s not working. I know that Kellin used to be a prostitute, but he promised me he wouldn’t have sex with anyone else while he was with me. This guy isn’t even part of Oli’s group, so unless he’s talking about something that happened a while ago, I don’t understand why this would even happen. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, though.  
  
At that moment, Kellin arrives, looking at us with wide eyes. “What are you—”  
  
“Oh, hey, baby,” the guy says, slinging his arm around Kellin like they’re best friends. “How’re you doing? Little sore?”  
  
“Go away,” Kellin says, clearly uncomfortable, shrugging out of his grip. “And don’t call me that. We’re not dating.”  
  
“That’s not what you were saying last night.” The guy winks.  
  
“What was I saying last night?” Kellin snaps. “I said 'Please,’ and 'Stop,’ and 'Please stop.’ Multiple times. I gave you what you wanted. Now get the fuck out of here.”  
  
But this guy just won’t quit, as if he thinks that Kellin is obligated to associate with him. “Since when do you control me?” He takes a step forward, so Kellin steps away, his back against the lockers.  
  
“Hey,” I say firmly, pushing myself in between them. “Seriously, dude. He doesn’t owe you shit. Get lost.”  
  
The guy shoves me, though not that hard, and before I or Kellin can react, a familiar voice says, “Back the fuck off.” This is quickly followed by a punch to the guy’s face, delivered by none other than Tay.  
  
The guy takes a step back in stunned shock, and Tay pushes him even farther. “You wanna finish what you started, kid?”  
  
The guy just sort of shakes his head, holding a hand up to his eye, and Tay nods in satisfaction. “That’s what I thought.” She glances around, at the small scene she’s made. “Now go before a teacher comes, or more people see us. Do you really wanna have to tell everyone that you got punched by a girl? I mean, not that that’s hard to believe, since girls are fucking badasses, but you seem like the type to want to protect your fragile masculinity at any cost.” She shrugs and casually flips her loose hair over her shoulder, so much more confident than the scared girl she was on the night that we met her. It’s kind of ironic, actually—we met when she was harassed and Kellin stood up for her. Now Kellin’s the one being harassed, and she stood up for him.  
  
Looking quite mortified, the guy rushes away, and Tay turns around to stare at me and Kellin—we’re both staring at her in a mix of surprise and admiration.  
  
“I’ve been trying to learn a thing or two about fighting—or at least some forms of self-defense—since we met,” she says. “Glad to know it could be useful. I couldn’t just stand around and watch that happen without doing anything.”  
  
“You didn’t have to do anything,” Kellin says softly. “But thank you. Really.”  
  
“Anytime.” With that, she walks away, looking for all the world like the leader of some sort of girl gang.  
  
I turn to Kellin, questions on my lips, and he silences them with a quick and subtle kiss. “I have something to tell you,” he whispers, taking my hand, and I can do nothing but nod.


	31. Call the Police

Kellin practically drags me across the hall, to the same supply closet where I found Oli kissing him. He closes the door behind us and flicks the light on, taking a deep breath and making sure not to look right at me.  
  
“Well…?” I say slowly.  
  
Unexpectedly, he pulls me in by my shirt and starts kissing me, but even though I love the taste of his lips, I gently push him away. “Talk to me first,” I tell him firmly. I realize now that this is what he does to forget about his problems, but it needs to stop. “What is it that you have to tell me?”  
  
Kellin just looks at me for a few moments. Then he blurts, “I’m being sold.”  
  
I narrow my eyes at him, trying to let the words sink in. “You’re— _what_?”  
  
He sighs, taking a step back from me and pushing his hair out of his face. “It’s prostitution, basically, like I used to do, except it’s without my consent. Everything seems to be without my consent these days. They just—just  _sell_  me to people. I don’t even get to choose who they sell me to or what that person does to me. And I don’t get any of the money, either. It started on Sunday night; Oli called me, told me to meet up with him…”  
  
I stare at him in shock, thinking of the way that guy talked about him. “Oh, God, Kellin,” I breathe, lightly resting my hand on his cheek. He reaches his hand up and covers mine with it, closing his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again and locking his gaze with mine.  
  
“It’s fine,” he says, even though there’s no way in hell that it’s the truth. His voice shakes and his eyes are still so desperate and scared, but he’s too fucking stubborn to admit it.  
  
“Is this your punishment, then?” I ask. If there’s more planned after this, something worse, then I don’t want to even try to imagine it.  
  
He shrugs. “Probably. Part of it, at least. It’s not just him and the rest of the boys anymore. It’s not even officially run by him; there’s more. And it’s open to any dude…of any age…”  
  
“Who?” I ask. “Who are the other people who’re running this whole thing? How—why—”  
  
“Doesn’t matter,” he says curtly. “I’ve gone through this shit before.”  
  
I almost can’t believe what he’s saying, but I know that it’s real—forced prostitution. Just picturing the shit he’ll be going through, probably on a regular basis, I come to a decision that I should’ve made a while ago: “I’m gonna call the police.”  
  
Kellin’s eyes widen in alarm. “What? No. You can’t. It won’t do any good. It’ll just make things worse.”  
  
“They have to help somehow,” I say, though deep down, I know that isn’t always the case. “These people are literally abusing you. How the hell are they gonna ignore that?”  
  
“Easy,” Kellin replies. “They’ll ask you questions, and then they’ll say they’ll check it out and do something about it, or they’ll contact you, blah blah blah, shit like that, and then they never do. You’d be surprised at the things the police let slide.”  
  
I shake my head incredulously. “I—I have to call them, Kells. Maybe everyone else will ignore it, but I won’t. At least then I can say I tried to do something.”  
  
“You can’t,” Kellin says quickly. “I understand what you’re saying, Vic, I really do. I know you mean well. But this thing is beyond your…your control.” His voice cracks ever-so-slightly at that, and I can see how much it kills him to say it: that it’s beyond my control. He wants it to be within control. But, as they say, we always want what we can’t have.  
  
“I guess I can’t stop you,” he continues. “Who knows? Maybe they’ll surprise me and actually do something for once. Speaking from personal experience, though, I highly doubt it, and I don’t recommend even trying. But you can if you really want to.” He sighs. “Just…don’t be surprised if it backfires.”  
  
With that, he makes a move for the door, but I stand in front of it, blocking him. “Wait.”  
  
He squints his eyes at me skeptically. “What?”  
  
I lean forward and give him a small, comforting kiss, our lips soft and light against each other as I let mine linger on his for a few moments. Then I slowly pull away, looking him directly in the eyes. “I…”  
  
I’m really not sure how I plan to finish that sentence, but Kellin just nods in understanding. “Yeah,” he says. “Me, too.”  
  
—  
  
I end up breaking and making a call to our local police station almost immediately after school. After the first few questions, I quickly realize that, like Kellin has stated before, I really don’t have much solid evidence at the moment to back up my claim. I go with it, though, and the person on the other end does seem to listen to me at first, or maybe I’m just being too hopeful. Probably that.  
  
I try to leave out any information that might get Kellin in trouble, stating only that Oli, along with some other people, are controlling him and selling his body. That’s when the person starts sounding skeptical, though I’m pretty sure the police deals with cases like these on a regular basis. I don’t want to give up, though, so I push on through the call, expecting them to ask me to come to the station or something. But they don’t. They simply say that further investigation will be conducted, mostly with the people I mentioned were involved in the crime, and then something about contacting me at a later point. And that’s that.  
  
Kellin has some good points, and he knows a lot better than I do, but I couldn’t help myself. I want to believe that there will be justice, but with how fucked up the justice system is, I’m thinking that that might not happen. It sort of scares me, how the people who we’re taught protect us turn out to be just as dangerous as anyone else, or even more so.  
  
Shortly after that, Kellin shows up at my house unexpectedly, claiming that he just wanted to “do something with someone” before anything else happens later. I don’t really know how to react to him being here without forewarning, but I’m not doing much, and Mike isn’t here, so I let him stay for the hell of it. We end up in my room together, lying side by side on my bed and talking casually about nothing.  
  
Finally, at a lull in conversation, I admit, “So I, uh, contacted the police station.”  
  
Kellin’s eyes widen for a split second before he simply nods. “I thought you would. How’d it go?”  
  
I shrug. “They asked me a bunch of questions, and I gave them as much information as I could without getting you in trouble, and then they said some other stuff, like how they’d investigate it and talk to the people involved, maybe contact me later…and that was pretty much it.”  
  
“Huh.” He seems completely unsurprised. “Well, not to burst your bubble, Vic, but I haven’t been contacted by any authorities.”  
  
I shrug again, trying not to let his words get to me. “I only made the call, like, an hour ago. They probably have other shit to deal with, too. Maybe they just haven’t gotten around to it yet.”  
  
“Maybe.” I can tell he doesn’t believe it, though. “The thing is, now my name’s out there,” he adds. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I mean, I guess it could be good, but if they search around, they could find shit they’re not supposed to find. I’m hoping that, if they end up ignoring this issue like they usually do, they’re lazy enough that they don’t even do any sort of background check. I’m hoping that they don’t call me or you or Oli or anybody to the station, either. I mean, I’m also hoping that they actually do some sort of formal investigation and fix all this, but considering that they’ve never been that reliable in the past, I’m not thinking too much about that possibility. So basically I’m just hoping that this doesn’t make things any worse than they already are.”  
  
I sigh guiltily, looking away and anxiously running my fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry, Kells. I just—”  
  
“No, you don’t have to apologize,” he interrupts, lightly putting his finger under my chin and tilting my face towards him. “I get it. You wanted there to be some way out. I always thought it’d be that easy, too. But sometimes it’s not, and you learn to accept that.”  
  
We stare at each other silently for a few short moments, before I make the move, leaning forward and kissing him gently. He moves his lips against mine, both of us slow and lazy as he rests his hands against my chest. We take our time, our pace sweet and leisurely, before Kellin starts licking at my bottom lip. I open my mouth a little for him, letting him slip his tongue inside as the kisses get deeper.  
  
Somewhere along the way, Kellin ends up in my lap as I’m lying on the bed with my back up against the headboard. We’re going a bit quicker now, letting “slow and sweet” merge smoothly into “fast and passionate.” His hands are on my shoulders, around my neck, and he’s pressing his body up against mine. He even grinds down on me a little bit, though his main focus is on this impromptu make-out session.  
  
Since he’s getting kind of touchy-feely, I can’t help but reach my hands up under his shirt and hold onto his hips. He makes a small gasp at my touch, but still he keeps on kissing me, lightly biting at my lip and then licking over it again. As I move my hands around, though, I start to realize that the tiny whimpers traveling from his mouth to mine are more out of pain than pleasure.  
  
I pull my lips away from his, lifting his shirt up a little more and looking down at his body. They’re not too noticeable, but I can still distinctly see bruises on his hips. “Kell…”  
  
Kellin just blushes, as if he’s embarrassed. “It—it gets a little rough sometimes. And obviously they don’t look after us once they take what they want from us. We’re just sex toys.” He lets out a slow breath. “Maybe we should stop.”  
  
“Of course,” I say automatically. “We can stop whenever you want to.”  
  
Kellin nods, climbing off of me and lying back down on my bed, closing his eyes. “This is so dumb, but I’m so fucking tired, and I highly doubt I’m gonna get much sleep tonight, so can I just kinda—?”  
  
I chuckle. “The bed’s all yours, babe. I should probably be doing homework or something anyways.”  
  
“Oh, boy. Win-win.” He gives me a thumbs up sign, burying himself in the covers and pillows, and he’s out only a few minutes later.  
  
It should feel weird, working and going about my day while my boyfriend is taking a nap in my bed, but it doesn’t. It feels natural, relaxed, even though the reasoning behind his sleeping is far from that.  
  
Kellin wakes up about an hour later, stating that he should probably go soon, and I let him, even though I don’t like thinking about where he’ll be later and what he’ll be doing. I almost want to go with him to confront these people, but according to him, it’ll only end badly for me. I’ve never liked being stuck doing nothing, but again, I’m going to trust that he knows better than I do.  
  
As usual, it’s fairly late when Mike comes home from wherever he was this time. It was probably Alysha’s house, considering that he didn’t drive home with the rest of us today. That usually means that Alysha picked him up from school, since she gets out a half hour before we do. The sound of the front door opening and closing, followed by his footsteps, doesn’t faze me at all until I hear him call from downstairs, “Vic! Come here!”  
  
My immediate reaction is confusion. Mike hardly speaks to me at all lately, so what could be urgent enough that he’s yelling for me to come downstairs?  
  
I don’t dare to challenge it, though. “I’m coming!” I call back, heading down to the living room. “What the hell are you—?”  
  
My question is silenced by the sight I’m greeted with. Mike is sitting on the couch, holding what looks like napkins or paper towels, all of them at least partially stained with blood. His bottom lip is bloody and swollen, his nose is bleeding, and a black eye is definitely forming. His clothes are a tattered (and also somewhat bloody) mess, his right shirtsleeve is rolled up to reveal a cut on his forearm, and there’s obvious pain written all over his face. Overall, he looks like a wreck.  
  
“Holy shit,” I whisper, rushing over to him in a sudden influx of panic. “Holy  _shit_ , Mike, are you okay?”  
  
“Relatively speaking,” Mike replies, gritting his teeth. “Just help me.”  
  
I help him up and lead him into the bathroom, demanding him to show me every injury. It’s mainly just those few that I can already see—those are the only bleeding ones, anyways, and the only ones that I’d say would need immediate attention. Even though he told me to help him, he starts insisting that he’s fine and that he can do it all himself, but I know he’s just trying to be tough—and, generally, he is. I guess he’s starting to realize that it’s not shameful to ask for a little bit of assistance sometimes.  
  
Once we’ve determined that he probably doesn’t need to go to the hospital (keyword:  _probably_ ), and once he doesn’t resemble a car crash as much anymore, I sit back down with him in the living room and say, “Okay. Now tell me what the hell happened.”  
  
Mike just shakes his head and looks down at his hands. “I was out in the city, right,” he begins, “walking home from Alysha’s house. That’s what I usually do when she picks me up, just walk back home, since it’s not that far. I don’t even really remember what part of the city I was at, but it seemed kinda close to where those clubs are, y'know, that Kellin goes to. Or whatever. But yeah, I was just walking, and then Oli Sykes and, like, three other dudes jump me out of fucking nowhere…”  
  
I really shouldn’t be surprised at this point. It always comes back to them.  
  
“Said something about how it was ‘for Vic,’” he continues. “To teach you a lesson or some shit. They were like, ‘Did he really think we wouldn’t find out that he’s trying to turn us in?’ Apparently, they’re friends with the fucking police somehow, and they get out of trouble pretty much no matter what. At least, that’s what I gathered. But they were so pissed. Believe me when I say I fought 'em, and left a few good marks, too, but I was outnumbered, and when they decided to let me go and I started running away, I hear them yell, 'The police ain’t gonna help you!’ Or some shit like that. It was fucking wild.”  
  
This is the moment that I realize what Kellin meant when he said calling the police might only make things worse.  
  
“Fuck,” I groan, wincing and covering my face with my hands. “This is my fault, Mike.”  
  
“So it seems,” he replies bitterly. I look up at him, and he just shrugs. “Whatever. It’s really not that bad. My guess is that this was just a warning or something. I have no idea how the hell you’re even involved with those guys, but you must’ve stepped out of line, and they aren’t taking any shit from you.”  
  
“I can see that.” I bite my lip angrily. “Fucking police.”  
  
Mike raises his eyebrows. “Huh. Yeah. The police? They’re probably the last people who’ll fix your problem, whatever it is. Most of the so-called 'authorities’ here don’t do shit, y'know? There aren’t even that many to begin with, and they’re all on crack. Either that, or they’re selling it. How ironic.”  
  
I nod–it looks like he and Kellin have the same outlook, and at this point, I’m starting to agree. If Oli’s friends with the very few police officers we have, there’s no telling what he could get away with if they just choose to ignore it. I don’t know if Kellin knows that bit or not, but I don’t think he’d be surprised.  
  
“Or they’re fucking street hookers,” Mike adds. “Or people forced into prostitution or something. Like, why are there so many drug dealers that haven’t been caught yet? 'Cause without drug dealers, the police wouldn’t have drugs. Why are there so many people being used for sex who aren’t getting justice? 'Cause the police are the ones using them.”  
  
He has no idea how right he is.


	32. Elastic Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i keep forgetting to update this oops but yeah here u go also i was listening to elastic heart by sia when suddenly i realized how much it fits the fic and then this happened oh

Mom doesn’t seem to notice Mike’s injuries, not that she would. She said that she’d try to stop, but it’s not looking like it’s working. I want to help her, but I don’t know how, and she ignores us both for the most part anyways. Mike acts like he doesn’t care, but it’s not like he’s fooling anyone.  
  
The rest of the week is tense and depressing, with Kellin pretty much just accepting defeat and me not knowing what to do about it. It’s almost as if he’s determined  _not_  to rebel, desperate to stay in line. But I know it’s more than that—he’s not just desperate to stay in line; he’s desperate to survive. If there is one thing that amazes me about Kellin Quinn, it’s his ability to endure.  
  
Unfortunately, he’s not invincible, and it’s obvious that this is taking a toll on him. He insists over and over that it’s what he has to do, even going as far as to say that it’s his fault, his punishment, that he deserves it. I tell him that he’s wrong, that nobody deserves shit like this, but I don’t think he listens. It’s as if he’s being smothered by it all, a dark cloud of fog clouding his emotions, and it kind of scares me.  
  
I ask him on Wednesday through texts:  _You’re not planning on doing anything you’ll regret, are you?_  
  
His response is blunt but somewhat reassuring:  _u arent going 2 hav a repeat of that time i tried 2 jump in front of a car dw  
  
How are you holding up?_ I ask.  
  
 _well lets just say ive been better lmao_  
  
It hurts to see him joking about this, but I can’t say I’m surprised.  _I can’t even understand how you deal with all this.  
  
idk man it kind of reminds me of that 1 song. the 1 by sia. u kno. elastic heart. bc its like. “u did not break me, im still fighting 4 peace” “ive got thick skin & an elastic heart” idk it feels kinda like that ygm_  
  
I do get it, actually, but I can’t help it:  _Isn’t the next line of the song “But your blade, it might be too sharp” or something like that?  
  
ok mAYbE_  
  
Then he adds:  _srsly tho. u dont hav 2 worry abt me doing anything. i promise ok. ily_  
  
I let out a small sigh, a very slight, bittersweet smile on my lips.  _ily2_  
  
—  
  
Despite what Kellin said, I can’t help but still worry, especially considering that every day he just looks worse. I do my best not to ask him about it, because I know he doesn’t want to be reminded of the situation that he’s in, but it kills me not to know exactly what they do. It doesn’t take much imagination to guess, though.  
  
“What happens if you just—just don’t do it?” I ask quietly on Thursday morning. “Just refuse, or just don’t even show up.”  
  
“Well, I’ll put it this way: ‘What happens if you just, I don’t know, kill their entire family and feed the remains to the dogs?’ That’s pretty much what you just asked me. At least, that’s how they treat it. One guy started trying to get out of it—he even hid somewhere, I don’t know where—and they fucking tracked him down, and I don’t know what they did to him after that, just that I haven’t seen him since then. Their whores and their money, that’s all they care about. You fuck up that system, you’re as good as dead. Actually, no, you’re not as good as dead, because we’re their whores and they need us so they can’t kill us, but they’ll make you wish you were dead. Basically.”  
  
I just nod, wishing that he was exaggerating but knowing that he probably isn’t. “Do they get mad at you for still hanging out with me, though?”  
  
Kellin makes a thoughtful sort of face. “That’s the weird thing. They haven’t been doing much when it comes to that. I don’t know if it’s because they know that they won’t make me stop dating you no matter what they do, or if it’s because they’ve got something else evil planned that I don’t know about yet. Probably the second one.” He shrugs. “Whatever it is, I’m ready. They can hit me with it any time now.”  
  
“Don’t tempt fate,” I tell him, only half-kidding.  
  
He snorts. “Fate’s been a real dick to me lately. Maybe once it realizes that I don’t care, it’ll lay off.”  
  
But he does care, a hell of a lot more than he’s willing to admit, and we both know it.  
  
That afternoon, Kellin comes over again, if only so he doesn’t have to be alone. He’s quiet, and even though I know it won’t help anything in the long run, I can’t help but think about the fact that he’s always working to please me, even when he wants to distract himself. He never gives himself a break, and he definitely deserves one.  
  
“Hey,” I say as we’re lying in my bed, flipping over and positioning myself so that I’m hovering over him.  
  
He raises an eyebrow at me, a faint smile on his lips. “Yes?”  
  
“Let me…” I trail off then, leaning down and kissing him softly.  
  
He sighs into my lips, lightly taking ahold of my hips and pulling me down on top of him. I run my fingers through his hair, the kiss slow and deep as I run my tongue across his bottom lip. “Fuck,” he breathes when I pull away slightly, his gaze clouded with desire. “Vic, I—you don’t have to—”  
  
“Shhh,” I interrupt, pecking his lips again. “It’s all about you right now, okay?”  
  
“I—okay,” he says, pulling me back down and letting me resume kissing him.  
  
We stay like that for a short while, just making out on my bed, my hair falling into both our faces and my hands running all over his skin. Then I slowly pull away again, brushing my lips against his neck before he can protest. I nip and lick at the skin, reveling in the change of his breathing and the flickering of his eyelids.  
  
“Here,” I say quietly. “Let me return a favor—one I should’ve a while ago.”  
  
With that, I lift myself off of him, shifting down and taking ahold of his pants. I glance back up at him, raising my eyebrow and waiting for some sort of confirmation.  
  
“Yes,” he says quickly, switching from shy to needy. “Please.”  
  
I undo his pants for him, pulling them down and then reaching into his boxers. I move my hand slowly up and down, feeling him get harder at my touch. Impatiently, he pushes more of himself into my hand, and I respond by removing it from his boxers. He lets out a tiny but audible whine.  
  
“I’m getting there,” I assure him, pulling his boxers down and pressing my mouth against the base of his shaft. He whines a bit louder as I run my tongue up and down, teasing him the way he likes to tease me.  
  
“Vic,” he sighs out. I know what he wants, so I wrap my lips around his tip and suck.  
  
“ _Shit_ ,” he whimpers, thrusting himself farther into my mouth, and I oblige, going down and then back up again. My hand takes care of what I can’t reach, and the combination just makes him moan louder. He’s definitely vocal, and I fucking love it.  
  
I swirl my tongue around, making sure to use it to the best of its ability as I suck him off. I bob my head up and down on him, my free hand rubbing tiny bruises into his thighs—affectionate ones, soft ones, ones that bring good memories with them. Kellin reaches down and pulls at my hair, groaning and thrusting upwards once again. “You’re so good, fuck…”  
  
I hum in response the way he always does, and his reaction is the same, a gasping whimper as he arches his back slightly. He’s getting closer, I can tell.  
  
I speed up the pace for both my mouth and my hand, going down almost as far as I can and then pulling back up again. Experimentally, I very lightly graze my teeth down the side, and he gasps, his grip on my hair tightening. When I add more pressure through my hand, he moans, “I’m gonna—”  
  
Kellin’s sentence is turned into another loud groan as he finishes, all high-pitched whining and sweat glistening on his forehead. I only catch a little bit of cum before I take my mouth away—swallowing is one of my weaknesses.  
  
Once he’s done and calmed down, he glances down at his stomach. “You asshole,” he laughs, pushing his messy hair out of his face.  
  
I shrug. “Sorry. Not everyone’s a dick-sucking, cum-swallowing extraordinaire like you.” I say it as a compliment.  
  
“I’d say you did pretty good anyways,” he says thoughtfully as he uses some tissues to clean himself up. “B-plus.”  
  
“ _B-plus_?” I repeat indignantly. “Come on, that was good. I should get at  _least_  an A-minus.”  
  
“I’ll give you an 89,” he says, pulling up his pants and boxers. “Which is one point away from an A-minus.”  
  
“Rude,” I tease him, climbing back up and hovering my lips only inches away from his. He tilts his face up to kiss me, but I move back at the last second, shaking my head. “Nope.”  
  
“Okay, that’s just uncalled for.” He grabs me by my shirt and pulls me back in, kissing me softly and playfully. It feels like it’s been so long since we’ve had a peaceful moment like this.  
  
“Wow,” I say when we break it off. “You’re such an asshole. You won’t give me the A-minus that I clearly deserve, and then you think you can kiss me.”  
  
“I’m an asshole,” he agrees, “but I’m  _your_  asshole.” He gives me a cheesy wink.  
  
I snort. “You’re a nerd.”  
  
“I thought I was an asshole.”  
  
“You’re an asshole  _and_  a nerd.”  
  
Kellin sticks his tongue out at me. “Oh, boy. Double-whammy.”  
  
“Who the fuck says 'double-whammy?’”  
  
“I do!”  
  
We tease each other like that for a while, until we end up just lying together comfortably. Then Kellin says, “Really, though, you didn’t have to, y'know, pleasure me or whatever just because I do it to you. Not saying I didn’t like it, because in all honesty, I really did, but you didn’t have to.”  
  
“But that’s why I did it,” I reply. “Because you like it, and you deserve to have something that’s…” I trail off.  
  
“Something that’s…?”  
  
After a long pause, I finish: “Consensual.”  
  
He nods slowly, sighing and resting his head against my shoulder. A few short moments later, he murmurs, “I should probably be going soon.”  
  
I want to protest, but I know he’s right. “Stay safe, okay?” I say, kissing him on his temple. “Or, y'know, as safe as you can be.”  
  
“Don’t worry. I’ve got an elastic heart.” He gives me a dorky smile, but it doesn’t completely hide his fear.  
  
Shortly after he leaves, I hear the sound of the front door opening and closing. I assume that it’s Mike, but something seems off—quieter, slower, more subdued than the way Mike acts. Curiously I open my bedroom door and peer out over the ledge, trying to catch a glimpse, when I notice a flurry of lighter hair—  
  
 _Mom._  
  
I make my way down the stairs, trying to make sure that I’m not imagining it. But no, she’s here: home early…and, from what I can tell, sober.  
  
“Mom?” I call.  
  
She turns around. “Oh, hello, darling,” she says softly. She doesn’t look like she’s in tip-top shape, exactly, considering the killer hangover and withdrawal she’s probably suffering through, but she’s better than she’s been.  
  
“You’re home,” I say, stunned.  
  
She nods. “It’s hard,” she says, “but I’m trying to be better.”  
  
“I—I’m gonna tell Mike,” I say, daring to let myself smile a little. “It feels sorta like we should celebrate.”  
  
She just smiles back at me.  
  
I send a quick text to Mike:  _Hey wherever you are just an FYI that Mom came home early and she’s not drunk or anything and idk I just thought you’d want to know_  
  
His reply comes a few seconds later:  _Holy shit????_  Quickly followed by:  _I swear to god if you’re lying to me I’m actually going to kill you  
  
I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this.  
  
Ok then yeah holy shit???????_  
  
It’s a lighter sort of feeling in my chest, one I haven’t felt in a while. It’s almost like relief, or even what some would call hope. It’s amazing, and it’s terrifying.  
  
Mike comes home not too long after that, and for the first time in months, we all have dinner together as a family. I should’ve known that this happiness wouldn’t last, though, because afterwards, my phone buzzes—a text from Kellin.  
  
Something in the back of my mind, I get the feeling that it’s not going to be good. I open it up, though, and what’s written on the screen nearly makes my heart stop:  
  
 _hey this is rly quick n im sry if theres any typos im typign rly fast n my hands r shakin btu long story short im not gonna b able 2 talk 2 u or c u 4 a while im leavin & goin somewhere idk where but i kno its not good n this has happend 2 me b4 & it was V Bad n im not allowed 2 say anythin so if u reply 2 this i wont b able 2 c it or respond im sry vic im sry i got u in2 this shit im sry im so terrible im sry 4 makin u worry i jus had 2 send u smth & this is all theyre lettin me say im so fckin sry ily pls dont hurt urself pls dont do anythin bad jus bc smth bad happened 2 me ok ily ily im sry_


	33. Interlude III: This Is the End of Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi. i’m back from not updating for a while again. here’s an interlude of Kellin’s that will make more sense and be explained more fully by the end of the fic. woop.

When I first started stripping, I told myself that the hell of my childhood would never touch me again. I told myself that it was all up to me now, that I could finally choose whom I let hurt me. I told myself that, even though there was still the deal with Oli and even though any fuck-up could potentially ruin everything, I was free. And I was wrong.  
  
I know that I was wrong as soon as I get back to my house after spending the afternoon with Vic. Mom is acting strange, talking to me even less than usual. She’s high, of course, because she always is these days. I’m beginning to wonder if maybe she cares more about her drugs than she does about me.  
  
I can’t help but think, then, surrounded by the walls of my bedroom, about all the times she chose drugs first. There’s a memory of four-year-old me, crying because I couldn’t find my favorite stuffed animal or something, and her slapping me across the face because I was interrupting her in the middle of her trip. There’s a memory of ten-year-old me running out of the kitchen and screaming because our dinner was catching on fire—Mom had gotten high and forgotten about it. There’s a memory of fifteen-year-old me lying in my bed, broken and beaten and used, and her muttering that at least it had gotten her enough money to refill her stock.  
  
She’d do anything for those goddamn drugs…and that’s what I’m thinking about when I hear the knocking on the front door.  
  
In the back of my mind, I think I know somehow that whoever’s here is here for me, so I get up and slowly make my way out into the living room. My mom opens the front door, and I stop in my tracks at the men standing there.  
  
“We’ve come to collect our prize,” one says, sending shivers down my spine at the tone of his voice. Only one of them looks even slightly familiar, though I don’t know his name, but I have a bad feeling about who these people are and where they come from.  
  
I told Vic that there were more people involved here than just Oli and his friends, and I definitely wasn’t lying.  
  
Mom doesn’t say anything; she just glances over her shoulder at me, and I might just be imagining it, but I think there’s an apology somewhere in her eyes. I don’t even want to know what she’s sorry for.  
  
“Oh, look,” the man says, nodding at me. “There he is.”  
  
“Your…prize?” I squeak out, feeling the familiar fear lodge itself into my heart.  
  
The men take a few steps into my house. One of them pulls out a bunch of dollar bills and hands them over to my mother, who, through her haze of drugs, bites her lip and whispers, “They would have taken you back anyways.”  
  
 _Back? Back where?_  But I already know the answer to that question.  
  
“You’ve been extremely uncooperative as of late, Kellin,” the first man says. “Very…rebellious.” He takes another step toward me, and I take a step back.  
  
“She’s right,” he continues. “You knew the conditions of your deal, and you knew what would happen if you caused trouble. Technically, though, you’ve still been paying what you’re supposed to…”  
  
“Yeah,” I say, my voice cracking. “I have. I’ve been paying what they want me to pay them. You have no reason to punish me.”  
  
“Actually,” the man says, “another condition of the deal was that you let your ‘boys,’ as you call them—and only your boys—do whatever they please with you. And according to Oli Sykes, you have broken that part of the deal several times.” He nods at Mom. “She knew it was going to happen—there was no way for her to stop it. But we decided to give her a little… _gift_ , we’ll say…for cooperating.” He sighs. “The things addicts will do for their drugs.”  
  
I just stare at my mother for a long moment as the words sink in. Then I say, “You fucking sold me for drug money.”  
  
She shakes her head. “No, Kellin, you have to understand, they—”  
  
“No,” I interrupt, though I know that she’s right and that this would’ve happened anyway. “You just—you’re just letting them take me back to that fucking—”  
  
Another one of the men grabs me by the arm, holding me back. “Time to go, kid.”  
  
“No!” I yell, lunging, desperately trying to get out of his grip, but another man grabs my other arm and drags me backward as if I weigh nothing, treating me like a doll, a toy—though it’s not the first time someone’s treated me that way.  
  
“Let me…” I gasp out. “Let me text Vic.”  
  
“What? Who?” the first man says, the one who’s done most of the talking.  
  
“The boyfriend,” Mom says softly. “The one he’s been seeing instead of Oli.”  
  
“I won’t tell him anything, I swear,” I beg. “I just need to—I need him to know that I’m gonna be gone. Please. Just one message. So he doesn’t worry about me.”  
  
I don’t expect them to actually let me send him anything, but these people seem to know that it won’t endanger them at all, that it’s hopeless for me. They still hold onto me, though, looking over my shoulder as I type out a frantic message with shaking hands. It’s a bit embarrassing, but that’s the least of my problems right now, and they’ve gotta make sure I don’t say anything too telling.  
  
“There,” I say once the message has sent. “I’m done, okay?”  
  
The first man grabs my phone out of my hands and sticks it in his pocket. “That was your one privilege,” he says. “I figure you might as well, y'know, get to say goodbye.”  
  
“You say that as if I’m never gonna see him again,” I say, feeling rage build up inside of me once again. “Oh my God, you have no right to do any of this.”  
  
“Shut your mouth,” the man snaps.  
  
“No!” I yell again, struggling (and failing) to free myself. “Fuck you! I’m not fucking doing this!”  
  
The man grabs me by my hair and pulls it harshly, making me cry out. “Sorry, but are you the one in control here? I’m afraid not.”  
  
My breathing is fast and my vision is blurring, and my mother just stands there and watches, though I’d like to believe that there are tears in her eyes. I hear the man say, “Knock him out,” and right before someone hits me on the head and my world turns to black, I realize that I really have lost all my control.  
  
I’m not free. I never was.


	34. Searching for Something That I Can't Reach

For a moment, I’m just in shock, frozen, almost as if I’m not even really there. Then I spring into action.  
  
Mom and Mike both ask me what I’m doing and where I’m going, but I barely pay any attention to them. “Kellin’s place,” I say dismissively, and I don’t elaborate any further. I’m too busy thinking about what could possibly be happening, where “they” could possibly be taking him.  
  
It was stupid to think that something even worse than this wouldn’t happen, because something worse always happens. I keep replaying the words of Kellin’s message over and over again in my head, especially the last bit, the desperate apologies, the pleas for me not to hurt myself because of this. He knows me too fucking well.  
  
I drive fast, but it’s not nearly fast enough, and it feels like ages before I finally reach Kellin’s house. It fucks me up that it looks exactly like normal; there’s no sign that anything particularly dramatic has happened here. I rush up to the front porch and knock on the door a bit harder than I meant to. I’m greeted a few long seconds later by Kellin’s mother, who, put simply, looks like a mess. And high.  
  
“Where the fuck is he?” I demand.  
  
She seems completely unsurprised to see me. “I don’t know,” she says tiredly.  
  
“Bullshit,” I spit, even though it’s a possibility that she really doesn’t know where he is. I push past her into the house, and what fucks me up more is the fact that the inside of it looks fairly normal and unsuspecting, too. Unfortunately, not even the drugs on the counter are out of place.  
  
I know that Kellin probably isn’t here, especially if he was given a chance to send an SOS text, but I can’t help it; I start running through the whole house (which isn’t that large), searching in the most ridiculous spots, just in case, for whatever weird reason, he might be hiding in the fridge or under his bed or something. He isn’t.  
  
When I’ve pretty much given up and made my way back out to the living room, I notice Kellin’s mom watching me from the couch, looking half out of it but regarding me with something in her eyes that I can’t really identify. “You really care about him,” she says softly, sounding vaguely in awe.  
  
I just stare at her. “Well, yeah,” I say, as if the thought of not caring about him is unbelievably foreign (and it kind of is). “And you don’t?”  
  
She doesn’t answer that. She just says, “I wish I could help more than I can.”  
  
“You don’t know anything?” I press. “He just disappeared and you didn’t notice?”  
  
“Well, no.”  
  
“Then what the hell happened?”  
  
She sighs. “There are some men—I don’t even know their names; they must be new, since these ones in particular I’ve never seen before recently, and they never wasted time with introductions—they came over today and took him away in exchange for money. They would’ve taken him without the money, but…they said it was for me. To keep me in line. To give me what I need.”  
  
It’s hard, taking her words in, picturing Kellin being taken away by strange men. “Why did they take him away?” I ask. “And who were they? I mean, I know you don’t know their names, but who were they, like, associated with? Or were they just some random dudes with no connection to anything else?”  
  
“They said something about Kellin misbehaving, breaking some rules,” she says. “Kept seeing you when he wasn’t supposed to. Was supposed to be loyal. You must be real important to him. As for who they’re associated with—who the hell do you think?”  
  
“Oli,” I mutter to myself, angry but not surprised.  
  
“Oli really isn’t the ringleader, y'know,” she says. “He likes to act like he is, but really, he just got recruited and took his power to heart. Looking at the big picture, he’s just a kid.”  
  
“Yeah,” I say. “A kid who’s been abusing my boyfriend.”  
  
“I never said he was a good kid.” She runs a hand through her messy, frizzy hair. “Other than that, though, I don’t know much, and I wish I did. They told me only what I needed to know, which was that they were unofficially trading me money for Kellin. They said nothing about where they’d take him, specifically. They’ve done something like this before, but I never knew what the place was that they used, and it could be different this time, too. I really don’t know.”  
  
I just shake my head. “What do they do at this place? What even is it?” I think I already have a vague idea, but I want confirmation.  
  
Kellin’s mother shrugs hopelessly. “I don’t know any of the details. I’m guessing something to do with forced sex. Kellin never talked about it with me, and anytime I brought it up, he changed the subject or just refused to answer. Never opened up about it.”  
  
It all sounds agonizingly familiar.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she continues. “I really am. But that’s all I know about this.”  
  
I want to ask her more, but she truly seems like she doesn’t know anything more, so I just sigh and wrack my brain for someone else who might know something. It’s then that I remember who else is a part of this.  
  
 _Jaime._  
  
“Okay,” I say quickly. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna go now. I’m gonna keep, uh, keep looking. Gonna try to get more info. Bye.”  
  
I run out of the house just as quickly as I ran in, pulling my phone out and calling Jaime as soon as I hop into the car. What surprises me is when he doesn’t answer, and then I realize that maybe Kellin isn’t the only one getting punished today.  
  
“Fuck,” I groan, calling him again and getting the same result. I leave him a voicemail asking him to call me back as soon as possible, and then I send him a text asking where he is, just for good measure. Logically, I know that maybe he just doesn’t have his phone right now, but usually, he pretty much has his phone on him at all times. I try not to jump to the worst conclusion, though, just hoping and praying that he isn’t suffering the same fate that Kellin is.  
  
My next idea is to go to Matt, because he’s closer to Oli and therefore might know a bit more about all this. Once again, the short drive doesn’t feel short enough, and I nearly trip over my own two feet in my hurry to reach his porch. He must have seen me pulling up to his driveway, judging by how quickly he opens the door for me. “Whoa there,” he says. “Damn, I should really get your phone number at this point. What’s the trouble?”  
  
“Kellin’s gone,” I say simply, walking into the house and closing the door behind me.  
  
Matt raises his eyebrows in surprise. “What—he’s gone? What do you mean by ‘gone,’ exactly?”  
  
“He sent me a text saying that someone was taking him somewhere and he wouldn’t be around for a while or something. His mom told me about some people associated with Oli coming over to his house and taking him away, didn’t say where. Jaime might be gone, too; he won’t answer his phone.”  
  
Matt shakes his head. “I didn’t know about this,” he says in awe. “Must’ve been kept pretty top-secret.”  
  
“Do you know anything about it?” I ask. “Kellin’s mom said that things like this have happened before.”  
  
“I probably don’t know much more than she does,” he admits, sighing. “We were younger when it happened, and I wasn’t really involved in any of it at the time. It was mostly just bits and pieces of stories and conversations I overheard, and I haven’t retained much of it.”  
  
“How much younger were you?”  
  
It’s more of a casual question, a way to get a feel for how long ago this was, and that’s why I’m not prepared for his answer: “Twelve, thirteen years old, maybe fourteen?”  
  
It takes a moment for that to sink in. Matt and Kellin are about the same age, so if that’s how old Matt was when all that was going on, then…it looks like Kellin’s been involved in all this shit even longer than I thought. He really isn’t kidding when he says he’s used to it.  
  
“Fuck,” I say slowly, stressfully running my fingers through my hair. “I—okay. So. Um. Oli would probably know more about this, right?”  
  
“I’m guessing so,” Matt says. “Though if it’s something like what you’re describing, then he might not even be in charge of it. I doubt it, actually. He’d be at least somewhat involved, of course, because you said these people were associated with him, but…yeah.”  
  
“Okay,” I say. “Do you think you could tell me where he lives? I’m gonna confront him about it.”  
  
Matt raises his eyebrows again. “You sure about that? The guy’s pretty tough, and he doesn’t crack easily. For all we know, he could be almost as clueless as the rest of us. A pawn. I don’t know.”  
  
“I don’t care,” I say simply. I’m done with this bullshit, and I don’t want to break down until I’ve exhausted my options. “I want answers.”  
  
Matt stares at me for a few moments. “Okay,” he says finally, and then he proceeds to give me directions to his house, near a trailer park. “I can’t come with you because if he found out I was working against him or something, he’d very well kill me,” he says. “But, here, you can put my number in your contacts, like I said. So you don’t have to keep running over here.”  
  
We quickly exchange numbers, Matt wishing me the best of luck and sincerely apologizing that he couldn’t be of more help. I simply nod and wave goodbye, my mind already jumping to Oli. I don’t know how this is all gonna go down, and I might end up right back where I started, but I have to at least try.  
  
This house is slightly farther out, so the drive is even longer. When it comes into view, though, and I realize that this is the house Matt talked about, I can’t help but feel as though everything is speeding up. I almost can’t comprehend that I’m actually at Oli’s house, confronting him, on a search for my missing boyfriend (and possibly missing friend). It feels sort of surreal and even sort of scary, in a weird way.  
  
I try to ignore the way my heart starts to pound incessantly when I pull up to his driveway. There aren’t any cars parked out, though they might be in the garage, and this is the moment when it occurs to me that he might not even be home, or that his parents might be home, too. After a few seconds of contemplation, I just decide,  _Fuck it._  I make sure not to hesitate when I hop out of the car and head up to the porch like I’m supposed to be there.  
  
I force myself to knock on the door before I can think myself out of doing it. At first, I think that maybe the house really is empty, but then I hear the shuffling of footsteps. Another few agonizing seconds later, the door swings open, and right in front of me is none other than Oli Sykes.  
  
At the mere sight of him, most of my anxiety converts itself into anger, remembering the hell that Kellin has gone through, the hell that he’s still going through. “Well, would you look at that,” Oli says, pursing his lips and hardly sounding surprised to see me. “Vic Fuentes. The name that my little whore’s been screaming out instead of mine.”  
  
Part of me would probably be proud of the hint of jealousy I’ve instilled in him, but right now I’m way too fucking pissed. “Where is he?” I ask firmly, trying not to completely lose my head. It’s hard to look him right in the eye and make an attempt at being intimidating, especially when he’s so much taller than I am, but I do it anyway. I need him to know that I’m not fucking around.  
  
“Who, Kellin?” He shrugs casually. “Afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
  
I push past him into the house, giving him what I hope is a death glare. “You know damn well what I’m talking about. Apparently, some people came over to his house today and took him away somewhere.”  
  
“Oh, that!” Oli says as he’s closing the door behind him, quite obviously pretending to only just now remember. “Yeah. It’s punishment. A consequence.”  
  
“I got that much,” I reply. “Now where the fuck is he?”  
  
“I don’t know,” he says simply.  
  
“Bullshit!” I snap, taking a step toward him as I let my rage flow through me. “You’re involved in all this!”  
  
“Doesn’t mean I know everything about it,” he says. “Do you want to know what I did, Vic? Do you want to know the truth? The truth is that I told them not to tell me where they’d take him. I’ve never been to whatever place it is before. All I know is that it’s different from a place that was used a while back, a few years ago. The way that we negotiated it—I’ve told them from the very beginning to keep it a secret from me so that nobody can blackmail me in any way, though I doubt you’d get me to spill my guts even if I did know something. They’re the ones who take care of all this shit, and I’m just the one who told ‘em that they needed to take care of Kellin.”  
  
In a way, it makes sense, but I don’t want to believe him. He could very well be making it all up to keep me away, and as much as I don’t want to give up now, I realize that I don’t really have much to threaten him with that would make him crack if he knew something. We both know that calling the police would just end badly for me, and there isn’t much else on my side.  
  
“You’re a fucking prick,” I tell him, just because I’m not sure what to say but feel the need to say something. “I’ll fucking kill you.” I don’t actually mean it, of course, but I want to make him think that I do.  
  
He snorts. “Yeah, right. You know you don’t have any advantages, Fuentes. Might as well just give up now, because you’ll get the same result that you’re getting by talking to me. It’s useless. You have nothing to—”  
  
For once in my life, I don’t think. I just act. And that’s how my fist meets his mouth.  
  
Oli stumbles backward into the wall behind him, holding his hand up to his lips in shock. “Fuck you!” I yell, losing all self-control, all sense of right and wrong, as I punch him again. “I’ll kill you!” This time, I’m less confident that I’m not going to actually kill him.  
  
“I don’t know, Vic!” Oli shouts as he manages to fight back. “I don’t know where they took him!”  
  
I give him one last slap across the face, my whole body shaking as I take a step back and the reality of what just happened settles over me. It was a quick fight, really—I don’t even know if it would be enough to qualify as a “fight”—but I’m not used to being so violent towards other people. Usually, any hint of violence is directed towards myself instead.  
  
“Fuck you,” I repeat. “For treating him like shit.”  
  
“Fuck you,” he says back to me, narrowing his eyes. “For trying to start a fight with me. Don’t think I’ll forget that.” He nods at the door. “Get the fuck out of here before I break both your legs so that you can’t.”  
  
I open my mouth, about to once again demand that he tell me where Kellin is—because part of me refuses to believe that he’s telling the truth—but before any words can come out, Oli grabs me unexpectedly and spins me around, pushing me against the wall with his hands poised lightly around my throat. “I’m not answering any more questions,” he hisses. “This is not up for debate. You are going to leave as soon as I let go of you, and you will not say a single fucking word, and you will not come back unless you want to be six feet under the ground. I don’t think you want that, and I don’t think Kellin does, either—he’s not into necrophilia.”  
  
When he lets go of me, I want so badly to just lunge at him again. But deep down I know that that won’t do much good; it won’t make him talk if he knows anything, and chances are, he’ll just turn the fight around and seriously injure me. He was being easy the first time, but I have a feeling that he’s capable of more.  
  
So as much as I don’t want to, as much as I hate myself for it, I bite my lip in fear and anger and slowly, reluctantly, regretfully walk out of Oli’s house. Logic and emotions are warring within me. Logically, I know that leaving is probably the best option, but my emotions are still telling me not to let him get away with anything. I’ve been blinded by emotions many times before, though, so I hop into my car and drive away. Oli stands out on his front porch and watches me go with a look that could kill written all over his face, not heading back inside until we almost can’t see each other anymore. Once his house is out of sight, I pull over to the side of the road and just sort of sit there until my hands stop shaking and I can breathe properly again, until my heart rate finally slows down. After a couple of minutes, I call Matt, trying to recover from whatever the hell just happened and figure out my next move.  
  
I tell Matt what Oli told me, about making sure not even he knew where Kellin was being taken, and Matt actually doesn’t sound too surprised. “It does sound like something he’d do,” he says thoughtfully. “He’s pretty smart. Unfortunately for us.”  
  
I sigh. “I just don’t know what to do. I’m gonna keep asking around, though I highly doubt anybody else’ll know anything. But I have to try.”  
  
“No, I get it,” Matt agrees. “I’ll see if I can find something out, too, and I’ll let you know if I get anything. Whatever goes on at wherever he is, it can’t be pretty.”  
  
“Thank you,” I say breathlessly, quickly hanging up with him. Then I’m off again.  
  
I ask a few other people, including people at both strip clubs, but nobody associated with Kellin seems to know anything about this. I didn’t really expect them to, though, to be honest; if it’s true that even Oli himself doesn’t know where Kellin is, then I highly doubt some other random friend will. But I have to check, just in case.  
  
It’s late by the time I get back home, feeling like I’ve completely run out of options. He could be anywhere. He could be somewhere in this town, or, as far as I know, he could be in a completely different state. It’s a scary and hopeless thought.  
  
Mom and Mike both try to talk to me, but their words sort of feel like they just go in one ear and out the other. The last thing I want to do right now is pretend to be okay with everything that’s going on. I lock myself in my room with no words of response, and I think they understand that I need to be alone.  
  
I kick my shoes off and lie down on my bed, pulling up my phone’s messages and staring at Kellin’s last text. It’s fucking killing me.  
  
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m sitting up, scrolling through my contacts and landing on Kellin’s number. I only hesitate a moment before pressing the button to call him and holding the phone up to my ear.  
  
It rings for an impossibly long time, even when I know that he’s not going to answer. It shouldn’t shock and sadden me as much as it does when I get an automated message telling me to leave a voicemail.  
  
“Kellin,” I say softly, closing my eyes and taking an uneven breath. “I hope you’re okay. Fuck, I hope you’re okay. When I get you back, I swear to God I’m never letting you go. I’m gonna get you back, okay, and it’s gonna be soon, and I’m not gonna give up, alright, I can’t give up, I can’t. I can’t or I’ll lose my fucking mind. So I’m gonna—fuck, I’m—I’m gonna get some sleep before I end up breaking something.” I laugh humorlessly at that. “I hope one day soon you have your phone back so you can listen to this. Bye.”  
  
I don’t end up breaking something. But I don’t get much sleep, either.


	35. Addicted

There are few things more torturous than wanting to do something about a situation but knowing that it would probably only make things worse. Fear is a powerful motivator—or powerful drawback.  
  
Friday is hell. It’s the weirdest thing, being in school when there’s so much going on outside of it. I keep habitually checking my phone, dialing both Kellin and Jaime with no response from either of them. Neither of them are here today, either—Gerard was one of the people I talked to last night, and he promised to file missing person reports for both of them as soon as he could, even though the police haven’t been very helpful in the past. (“TV and movies make you think there’s some sort of waiting period before you do it, but that’s bullshit,” he said. “Maybe this’ll make them realize that there’s some really dark shit going down around here.”) I told him it might be a bad idea considering what happened to Mike, but he said he didn’t care and that they could give him their best shot. I’m still concerned, of course, but there’s also a strange sort of hope that maybe something good will come of this.  
  
The whole day drags on in a haze, even though there isn’t anything in particular that I’m looking forward to once it’s over. I just don’t want to be here (or anywhere, really). I don’t know what I plan to do this weekend, but I have a feeling that I’m not going to get much done with everything that’s going on. I want to keep searching, but I don’t know where to go or what to do. I can only imagine what the hell is happening to Kellin and Jaime right now. Whatever it is, I know it’s really fucked up, and it needs to end. But I don’t know how to end it.  
  
I text Gerard when I get home, and he tells me that, yes, he did file the missing person reports and that the police said they would be sure to investigate and start a search as soon as they could. We’re both not sure if they meant it, but I’m praying that this is serious enough that they aren’t going to ignore it. We need all the help we can get.  
  
I’m not sure what to do after that, so I force myself to start my homework, even though I’ve got the whole weekend to do it and calculus is the very last thing on my mind. I try to use it as a distraction, and it kind of works, but I still end up drifting off a few times, caught up in anger and stress and fear. Everything is so, so fucked up.  
  
I text Tony just to have someone to talk to, and I know he’s almost as freaked out as I am. I’m not sure if it’s better or worse that I know more about what’s going on. Yeah, knowledge is power, but ignorance is bliss.  
  
Mike goes out at one point, and he doesn’t come back until much later. I thought he was just going to Alysha’s house or something, but I can tell by the way he stumbles through the door that that’s probably not the case, unless Alysha has alcohol there (which she might). Because, well, Mike has definitely had alcohol.  
  
I’ve been lying on the couch for the past ten minutes in a bit of an internal breakdown (and a terrible headache), but the sound of his footsteps immediately snaps me out of my trance. I sit up, rubbing my eyes and glancing over at where he stands in the hallway. “Mike?”  
  
“Hmm,” Mike hums in response, heading into the kitchen and noisily rummaging through the cupboards.  
  
I stand up and follow him, crossing my arms over my chest to hide any underlying emotions. I can’t freak out about this, too.  
  
“Mike,” I repeat. “Where were you?”  
  
Mike flips me off and continues searching for whatever the hell he’s looking for before finally slamming the cupboard door shut and turning toward the fridge.  
  
I move over to block it. “Oh, no, you don’t.”  
  
“Vic,” Mike whines, and now that he’s facing me, I can clearly see just how wasted he is. His face is flushed and his hair is messy, eyes bloodshot and clothes sweat-stained.  
  
“Mike,” I repeat in the same tone of voice. “Why the fuck are you so drunk?”  
  
Mike takes a few steps back and leans against the counter. “Had to,” he mumbles. “Couldn’t deal…”  
  
“Couldn’t deal?” I repeat. “With what? Couldn’t deal with what?” I know what he’s going to say, though. Truth be told, I can’t deal with it, either.  
  
“Whatever the hell’s goin’ on,” he says, his words slurred so much that I can barely understand him. “Jaime’s gone. Your pretty boyfriend, he’s gone. Mom’s out gettin’ drunk again. And you’re fucking losin’ it, man.”  
  
“I’m not fucking losing it,” I argue, even though I clearly am fucking losing it.  
  
“Well, you’re gonna,” he says. “Any moment now.”  
  
“I am  _not_ ,” I snap, feeling like I’m going to lose it right now.  
  
“See? Look. There you go.” He tries to push past me into the fridge for whatever he wants, but I hold my ground.  
  
“Mike, you can’t be doing this,” I tell him firmly, trying to push away all my feelings, trying not to let the sight of him like this affect me. “You’ve gotta stay sober.”  
  
“Fuck staying sober!” he says. “At least when I’m drunk I think I’m havin’ a good time. When I’m drunk I forget everyone around me’s fucked up, and so am I.”  
  
“You’re damn right you’re fucked up,” I say. I’m pissed now, but I’m not even really pissed at him; I’m just taking it out on him, and I know I’ll probably regret it later. “But why would you just accept that you’re fucked up? Why would you just give in?”  
  
“Because it’s  _easier_ , dipshit!” He shoves me back against the fridge. “You of all people would know that!”  
  
He’s right—I do know that. I didn’t even have to ask, because I knew the answer already.  
  
“You knew you were gonna get drunk from the moment you left,” I say, “didn’t you?”  
  
“Yeah,” he replies. “So what?”  
  
I just shake my head at him, a physical pain in my chest from looking at the mess he’s made of himself. “Who brought you home?”  
  
“Me,” he says, uncaring. “Surprised nobody stopped me. Now fuck off, alright? Just fuck off.” With that, he turns around and storms out of the kitchen.  
  
“No!” I call, chasing after him. “You can’t do that! You could’ve gotten killed! Or killed somebody else!”  
  
Mike spins around, shoving me even harder than last time and causing me to stumble backward. “Shut.  _Up_.” It’s almost as if he spits the words out. He’s really pissed now, a short fuse made even shorter by the alcohol in his system. “I don’t care that you’re my brother; I swear to God I’ll punch you if you don’t shut the fuck up. I’m drunk off my ass already. Nothin’ you can do about it now, so you might as well just fucking stop.”  
  
Before I can get another word out, Mike is rounding a corner and rushing up the stairs, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. “Mike!” I yell after him, but he doesn’t even look back. He just runs up the rest of the way, and then I hear him slam the door to what I assume is his room, followed by the sound of him locking it. Of course.  
  
I sigh and slowly make my way back over to the couch, sighing as I sit down. Everything just feels like it’s falling apart around me, and I’m stuck, scared and angry and hopeless. I close my eyes and try to forget, try to block out the blood rushing in my ears and the echoes of our argument. It’s a lot more difficult than it should be.  
  
The feeling somehow comes both gradually and suddenly. It’s a feeling I’ve been suppressing all day, and now it’s just here, rising up in my chest and fucking up everything even more. I try to just breathe, but it’s never worked before, and tonight is no exception. I hate when it does this, when it comes out of nowhere—even though really it isn’t coming out of nowhere. There’s a reason that it’s here, something that’s triggered it, made it flare up, and I wish it would just fucking go away.  
  
I stand up on slightly shaky legs, making my way over to the bathroom and closing the door behind me. I feel like something’s stuck in my throat, like my airway is so thin that I can barely breathe, and nothing is helping at all.  
  
I glance up at my reflection in the mirror, noting my wild eyes and terrified expression. Looking at myself just makes it even harder, so I squeeze my eyes shut and rest my forehead against the cold of the mirror, pressing my hands down on the countertop to stop them from shaking. It’s the bathroom at the club all over again, except this time, Kellin isn’t here to help calm me down, and neither is Jaime, for that matter.  
  
And this time, I’ve got drugs.  
  
The thought breaks through the rest of my jumbled, panicked mind, and I hold onto it like a lifeline. It’s a desperate, familiar mantra— _I just want my pills, I just want my pills_ —burning itself into my brain, and I know that I should resist it, but I’m blinded by the way I’m feeling. Suddenly, I feel terrible and hypocritical for blaming Mike when he was absolutely right; I’m on the verge of a breakdown.  
  
I open my eyes and lift my head up, biting my lip so hard that it’s painful. There are so many thoughts spinning around and confronting me, thoughts about Kellin and Jaime, thoughts about Mike’s wellbeing and my mom’s, thoughts I can barely even make sense of, and I just want to be done with all of it. I just want my head to shut up, shut up, shut  _up_.  
  
I don’t even realize what I’m doing when I open the little medicine cabinet and pull out the bottles of pills. I pop in one after the other, but they don’t kick in fast enough, so I pop some more. I’m not thinking straight at all, focused on nothing but a high until an even more dangerous idea reveals itself to me, the idea that maybe a simple high isn’t enough. With my impulsiveness at a peak, it’s the most appealing thing I’ve thought of all day.  
  
 _Mike’s gonna hate me,_  I think vaguely as I lose track of how many pills I’ve swallowed.  _And Kellin, if they ever find him. Tony and Jaime and probably Mom, too, they’re all gonna hate me._  
  
My hands are shaking and my head is pounding, but I keep going until there’s barely anything left, collapsing on he floor and sitting down against the wall as I wait for it all to end. The lights seem too bright, and everything is just fucking terrible. I’m torn between  _I want to die_  and  _I don’t want to die_ , and I’m not sure which one is the truth and which one is caused by panic and fear. And that scares me even more.  
  
I don’t know how long it is before I hear footsteps coming down the stairs, and a few seconds later, I hear the bathroom door open. I’m in pain with my eyes closed, barely conscious at this point, but I can still make out the sound of Mike’s gasp, followed by “ _Fuck_!”  
  
I can hear him kneeling to the floor, can feel his hands on my neck as he clumsily checks for my pulse. “Oh my God,” he’s saying. “Oh my God, oh my God, Vic.” He shakes me, and I want to respond, but I’m so far gone. “Vic,” he repeats, his voice cracking. “You fucking  _idiot_! What the fuck? What the fuck were you thinking? Fuck you, oh m-my God, you can’t do this. Can you hear me? I know you’re still alive; can you hear me?”  
  
Now I can hear him digging around in his pocket, and a few seconds later he’s dialing a familiar three-digit number, talking fast about my name, my location, my situation. Then when he’s done, he seems to turn back to me, shaking me again. “Vic, I swear to God,” he says, his voice shaky, and I don’t want to think that he’s crying because Mike  _doesn’t_  cry, but that’s kind of what it sounds like. “Do you want to  _die_? Is that it? Do you want to die, Vic?”  
  
At the moment, I don’t know the answer to that question, but my complete loss of consciousness saves me from having to respond.


	36. Fire Alarms and Losing You

When shit hits the fan, there are generally two standard reactions: we can endure, or we can kill ourselves. Personally, I’ve tried both, and I’ve learned that they are both surprisingly difficult to do.  
  
I wake up to white walls and the steady beeping noise of machines. After a few long seconds of clouded memory and confusion, the scene starts to feel more familiar to me, because I’ve been in this position before—I’m in the hospital.  
  
Everything is hazy and disorienting, but gradually, it all starts to come back to me. I can vaguely remember arguing with a drunken Mike and then feeling the panic overtake me shortly afterward. I can remember taking too many pills, and I can remember Mike yelling at me, shaking me on the bathroom floor as the world faded to blackness. This is the second time it’s happened, and I hate myself for it.  
  
I close my eyes against the bright fluorescent lights, taking a deep breath and just letting it all sink in. Part of me wants to lose consciousness again, go back to sleep (or something like it) so I don’t have to deal with any of this. I know it’s my fault, though, and I can’t run from it. I can’t run from what I tried to do.  
  
Mike comes in about a half hour later, his eyes widening when he sees that I’m awake. “Holy shit,” he breathes, stopping right in his tracks.  
  
I sit up a little more, lightly propping myself up on my elbow. Tiredly, I say, “Hey, Mike.”  
  
In a split second, Mike has crossed the rest of the small room and wrapped his arms around me, and I do my best to reciprocate it in the awkward position that we’re in. That’s when it occurs to me, just how much he’d miss me if I was gone. It doesn’t matter how much of a rough patch we’re going through; in the end, it would’ve ripped him apart for me to do that to myself. Just like it would rip me apart if it were the other way around.  
  
“You’re such an asshole,” Mike says as soon as he lets go of me, staring at me intently, almost as if he thinks I’m going to disappear if he looks away for a single moment. “Do you know what it was like to find you like that? It—it wasn’t even the first time, and it still scared the hell out of me. Jesus Christ, you scared me so bad.”  
  
I stare back at him for a long moment, and then I crack a small smile. “Grammatically speaking, the correct phrase would be ‘You scared me so  _badly_ ,’” I tell him. “Or ‘You scared me so  _much_.’”  
  
Mike covers his face with his hands, shaking his head and laughing incredulously. “I hate you,” he says, sitting down in a chair next to my hospital bed. “I fucking hate you. I’m so glad you’re not dead.”  
  
I want to tease him about how contradictory those phrases are, but this time I give him a break, simply shrugging and biting my lip. “I’m sorry,” I say after a long moment. “For scaring you. Really.”  
  
Mike nods, quickly sobering up. “I’m sorry, too,” he says, surprising me. “About what I said.” He sighs. “And, God, if I’d have known—”  
  
“No,” I interrupt. “Don’t blame yourself for what happened to me, okay? You didn’t know what I’d do. I didn’t even know what I’d do until it was too late to change my mind. That’s all my own fault.”  
  
Mike just looks at me for another long moment before he nods again. “Okay,” he says slowly. “So…you didn’t, like, plan that, then?”  
  
“No,” I assure him. “I promise I didn’t. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”  
  
He bites his lip, seeming to contemplate something. “You aren’t gonna try again, are you?”  
  
I hate that I actually have to stop and think about it for a short few seconds before I can reply with fragile certainty, “No.”  
  
“You sure?” Mike says. “Because last time, you told me you wouldn’t do it again. And then, well…” He gestures to me, to the wreck I’ve made of myself.  
  
“I know,” I say softly, because I do know. I know I broke my promise to him. “I fucked up. But I want to do better, okay? For real. I don’t want my relapses to kill me.”  
  
Once the words are out of my mouth, it sinks in, just how true they are. Things might be shit right now, but I don’t think I want to die, and that’s a realization that is both terrifying and freeing. It’s something that makes me want to scream in a mixture of both fear and joy.  
  
“Hey,” Mike says. “I’m gonna make a promise to you, if you can keep yours.” When I nod and gesture for him to continue, he adds, “If you try to get clean again, then I will, too.” He shrugs. “I figure we might be able to do a better job if we work together instead of bringing each other down.”  
  
I nod, taking a deep breath as I think about the whirlwind of these past few months. Getting clean again—yeah, I think I can do that. It doesn’t matter how many times I relapse, how many times I fall back down, as long as I pull myself up again.  
  
“Yeah,” I tell him. “I’m gonna try.”  
  
—  
  
The rest of the weekend goes by in a blur of the aftermath of what I’ve done. I lie through my teeth when asked whether or not it was a suicide attempt; I know that that’s what I meant for it to be when I kept swallowing those pills, but I’m not going to tell anyone that, except for people like Mike, people who already know. I say that it was an accidental overdose, that I was panicked and stupid and didn’t know what I was doing (which isn’t really a lie). I don’t think they believe me, but it gets me through, faking that I’m fine even though I’m still far from it.  
  
Everyone is cautious around me, and I don’t blame them. They look at me like I’m a ticking time bomb, like any little slip-up could push me right off the edge again. I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want to live out my existence walking the line between life and death.  
  
My mind drifts back to Kellin at some point, accompanied by immediate guilt. Even though he wouldn’t know that I did this, even though I didn’t scare him the way I scared the people who knew that I’d relapsed but didn’t know I’d survive, I can’t help but feel like I’ve let him down. He told me not to hurt myself, and that’s exactly what I did.  
  
It’s Tuesday when Matt sends me a text:  _So I overheard something interesting…Oli mentioned “visiting” the place where Kellin might be. Said he’d do it this afternoon, and someone I don’t know (I didn’t recognize his name) would take him there because apparently he doesn’t know where the place actually is. I don’t know where he is now, if he’s at his house or if he’s already out somewhere, but I think you and I should go check it out. He could lead us right to it. OR it could be a trap for whatever reason. Your call._  
  
At the very thought of finding Kellin, I can almost feel my blood start to race.  _Trap or not, if he’s going there, we can’t just sit around and not try to follow him or figure out where he’s going. This could be our chance. I’ll fight him if I have to._  I’m only half-kidding.  
  
 _Fantastic. Let’s use your car instead of mine because he’ll be less likely to recognize yours if he sees us. Pick me up and we can head off._  
  
And that’s that. It doesn’t completely sink in yet that we’re going off to basically spy on Oli and potentially figure out this whole mystery that the police have been doing a fairly shitty job on. It feels like I’m just driving for no reason, even after I arrive at Matt’s house and pick him up.  
  
“I was going to suggest that we check to see if Oli’s car is still at his house,” he says, “but then I remembered that he said someone else would be taking him, so it doesn’t really matter.”  
  
I bite my lip. “So basically, we have no idea where he is right now. Could you, like, text him?”  
  
Matt shrugs. “I mean, I could, but I think it’d sound suspicious to just be randomly asking him where he is.” He makes a face. “Know what? I’m gonna do it.”  
  
I raise an eyebrow at him. “What are you gonna tell him?”  
  
At that, Matt laughs a little. “I’ve got something.” He pulls his phone out and starts to type a message, a vaguely amused look on his face. When he’s done, he turns back to me and says, “I asked him where he was, and I said it was because I’d just met a really pretty twink that I thought he might like.”  
  
I snort in disbelief, just staring at him for a moment before replying, “Are you serious?”  
  
“Yep. Let’s see what he says.”  
  
Part of me doesn’t even expect Oli to reply, so I’m kind of surprised when he responds only a few minutes later. Matt opens up the text and says, “He’s somewhere in the city. Didn’t say where, but he says he’s busy right now and to make sure I get the guy’s number so they can hook up for a one-night stand later. Well, that wasn’t his exact wording, but basically.” With that, he types out a quick response and then adds, “I guess if we wanna find him, we’re gonna have to drive around the city.”  
  
“Good enough,” I say dismissively.  
  
What we call “the city” is fairly small for a city, but it’s got a lot of back roads and different sides to it, so we’re not really sure where to start. After a quick drive through some nicer parts, Matt and I decide that the more run-down areas would be a better bet, though we’re not completely ruling anything out yet. It still hasn’t quite fully hit me yet, what we’re doing; it’s as if I’ve already gotten used to the idea of Kellin being gone, as if part of me has already given up on finding him. If I had given up, though, I wouldn’t be so set on doing this.  
  
We’re around ten minutes into our search, about to make a right onto a mostly empty street in a bad part of the city when Matt leans over, points out my window, and says, “Over there.”  
  
I automatically slow down a little bit and refrain from turning, trying to see what he’s looking at while trying not to be too obvious about it. Down the road to the left of us is an unfamiliar car, but squinting enough to be able to see inside of it, I think I can make out Oli in the passenger seat.  
  
“Is that him?” I ask, about to change my direction and make a left.  
  
“I think so,” Matt says, nodding. “Follow them, but keep far enough behind them that they don’t realize it.”  
  
Considering that that car most likely has a rearview mirror, this task is probably going to be more difficult than it sounds.  
  
Once the car makes a turn to the left onto another street, I turn onto the street that it was just on so that they can’t see me. Now it’s starting to sink in; I’m nervous already, and I’m not even out of the car yet.  
  
Conveniently, though, when I drive down this road and glance over at where the car went, I find it parked, with someone I don’t recognize climbing out of the driver’s side and Oli climbing out of the passenger side, taking a drag of a cigarette.  
  
“Park on another street nearby,” Matt says, but I’m already on it, driving straight through the intersection and pulling over.  
  
“Is the place on this street?” I ask quietly as we hop out of the car. “Or are they just walking now?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Matt replies, his voice lowered. “Let’s try to be quiet, see where they’re headed.”  
  
I’ve done a few wild things in my life, but I don’t think any come close to what we’re doing right now.  
  
When we cross the street, we find that Oli and the other guy seem to be gone. “There’s a side path right next to where they parked, though,” Matt tells me. “Like an alleyway. They probably went through there.”  
  
We try to be simultaneously fast and slow, fast enough so that we don’t lose them but slow enough so that we don’t get too close to them and alert them of the fact that they’re being followed. Sure enough, I can see them farther down the alley, rounding another corner.  
  
“What do we do if we find the place?” I whisper as we make our way down. Even in the daytime, it still feels dark and ominous, as if I’m going to be attacked at any moment. “Call the police first, right? They wouldn’t ignore that, would they? Or would they?”  
  
“They’re supposed to be searching for Kellin and Jaime,” Matt replies, “so if they get a call that the two have been found, I’m going to hope that they wouldn’t ignore it. Some of them are friends of ours, though, and they’ve been getting us out of trouble for a while now.”  
  
I don’t respond to that as we reach the end of the alley, instead subtly peering out to the left and trying to figure out which direction the two are headed. Just as I see them make a right turn, I hear a bunch of scuffling followed by a yelp from Matt, and before I have time to react, I’m feeling hands wrap around my throat.  
  
Automatically reaching backward and pushing against the person who’s grabbed me, I hear Matt shout, “What the fuck?”  
  
I’d yell at him to be quiet, but I know it’s no use—we’ve just been jumped by the rest of Oli’s group.  
  
I only have a split second to figure it out—so it  _was_  a trap, and it looks like Oli and the others have figured out Matt’s betrayal—before the hands tighten around my throat, making it hard for me to breathe. “Matt,” I choke out.  
  
Matt’s busy dodging punches and kicks, and unsurprisingly, he’s pretty damn good, putting up a decent fight. I, on the other hand, am still struggling to get out of this guy’s death grip.  
  
I kick backwards, hitting him right where it counts, and he groans, his hands jolting and temporarily loosening their grip on my neck. I slide out, suddenly angry, and though part of me wants to make a run for it and find what I came for, another part of me wants to stay with Matt and help him fight back.  
  
Before I have a chance to make a decision, though, one of the guys fighting Matt shifts his attention to me, grabbing me and slamming me against the wall.  
  
“Wow,” I spit out, ready to take no shit. “Kinky.”  
  
The guy pulls my head back using my hair and slaps me across the face, and I wince at the sting as I struggle again to get free. I feel more hands around me, pulling me up before a fist connects with my jaw.  
  
In a blur of pain, I see Matt fighting against only one person now out of the corner of my eye—and it looks like he’s winning. With a quick blow to his opponent’s eye, he slips away, turning to where I’m just kicking and attempting to throw a punch, pulling one of my arms out of one of the guy’s grasps with strength that I reserve for important moments. Most of my blood feels like it’s been replaced by adrenaline, and in an angry haze, I sock one of the guys right in the mouth.  
  
I can see Matt coming to my aid, attacking the other guy to distract him. “Go,” he gasps out. “I’ll handle this.”  
  
“You can’t do this by yourself!” I say indignantly, dodging another punch.  
  
Matt just looks at me. “I can try,” he says, and something in his voice lets me know that he’s dead serious. “Now go. Get what you came for.”  
  
Throwing another punch like it’s nothing—regardless of how much my hand stings from the impact—I slide my way out of where I’ve been cornered, sprinting out of the alley and down the street, making a right turn and ignoring any sounds of footsteps that might be behind me. I have to catch up to Oli, wherever he went.  
  
Rushing down these back roads, I keep my eye out for any sign of him or his buddy, hoping I haven’t lost them by now. I can smell smoke in the air, which is when I remember that Oli was smoking a cigarette.  
  
I use that to guide me, my legs carrying me faster than I thought they ever could as I maneuver through the streets. I’m not sure if I’m even going the right way, but my gut is telling me that I am, and I don’t have time to question it or try to find a different way.  
  
The smell of smoke is almost overwhelming now, breaking through my haze enough to make me wonder if maybe it’s not cigarette smoke. As I round what turns out to be the last corner, I’m greeted by the sight of a shitty building that kind of looks like it’s falling apart—even the parts of it that  _aren’t_  on fire.  
  
I can see a few people running out through the doors and windows, and then someone rushes up to me, gasping, “Vic, holy shit, how did you get here?”  
  
I just stare at him for a few moments in both relief and disbelief. “Jaime!”  
  
I pull him to me and wrap my arms around him, an unbelievable feeling washing over me at the knowledge that, yes, I’ve found the place, and Jaime is okay. “What the fuck is going on?” I ask when I pull away, glancing up at the building as I watch the flames lick at the walls.  
  
“Place on fire,” Jaime pants (way to point out the obvious). “Oli’s in there still. And so is Kellin. I don’t know about anyone else.”  
  
“Kellin’s still in there?” I say, glancing over at the burning building.  
  
“Yeah, but—”  
  
“Call the police and firefighters and all that on this shit,” I say in a rush. “The address and whatever. I’m going in.”  
  
Without another word, fueled by adrenaline and anger and desperation, I take off running, ignoring the sound of Jaime calling my name. I’m about to go against everything adults ever said to me when I was little about not going into burning buildings. It might be a bad idea, but I need both Kellin and Jaime to be alive. I won’t accept anything less.  
  
I push through the main door, trying not to immediately choke on the fumes and squinting through the smoke. I don’t pay attention to anything else that’s in here (not that there’s much left that hasn’t already caught fire)—I just search the floor for Kellin, calling his name through the house. My heart feels like it’s beating ten times faster than normal, my blood rushing in my ears.  
  
I try to stay low so I get less of the smoke in my lungs, though I push myself to go up to the next floor when I realize that he’s not down here. The flames are even worse up there, but I don’t care.  
  
Part of me is starting to wonder if maybe he’s gotten out by now, if maybe this search will be in vain and I’ll die here looking for him, but I’m proven wrong when I make out a familiar voice through the haze, screaming out, “ _Fuck you_!”  
  
The voice is followed by the sound of shattering glass and coughing, and with my heart feeling like it’s stuck in my throat, I sprint, dodging the flames that grow with every second, shouting, “Kellin!”  
  
The voice is a lot closer now, all rough-sounding as Kellin calls back, “ _Vic_?”  
  
And then I find him kneeling on the ground, his hair in his face and sweat rolling down his face as he coughs into his hands.  
  
I don’t ask him what happened. There’ll be time for that later. I don’t even hug him; we’re not free yet. I just push my relief away for the moment, tilt his head up so that he’s looking at me, and say, “I’m getting you out of here.”  
  
Kellin looks like he wants to argue, glancing over at something unseen, but then he just nods weakly.  
  
I take his hand and lead him back through, practically carrying him by the time we make it back down the stairs. The fire has gotten even worse, and now I’m coughing, too, barely able to see where I’m going.  
  
Kellin falls back down to his knees, and as much as I hate to admit it, he looks and sounds like he’s not going to make it. “No,” I tell him, pulling him back up again. “I’m not letting you die. I’m not losing you.”  
  
The flames are burning us both, the pain stinging like lightning as we stumble back out of the building, the significantly cooler air wrapping around us as we both fall to our knees on the ground a few feet away.  
  
Kellin’s hacking and coughing is worse than mine and lasts a lot longer, and I wrap my arms around him, rubbing his back in hopes that he’ll stop. He doesn’t.  
  
“Are you okay?” I ask worriedly as he rests his head against me, his breathing sounding labored and thin.  
  
He shakes his head, glancing up at me with wide eyes and burned skin. “I’m gonna die, aren’t I?” he says softly, his voice wispy and even rougher than it was a few minutes ago.  
  
“No,” I reply, trying to ignore the terror in the pit of my stomach. “No, no, no, listen, you’re gonna live, you’re gonna—I’m not gonna lose you.”  
  
Kellin’s coughing just worsens as he leans against me for support, and I start to wonder how much smoke someone has to inhale before they die, and I wonder if Kellin has reached that point yet.  
  
I glance up around me, and one of the first people I notice is Matt, looking beaten and bruised but still very much alive. “Ambulance,” I tell him desperately, gesturing to the body in my arms. And then, louder, so everyone can hear me: “I need a fucking ambulance!”


	37. Interlude IV: I'm Not Yours Anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> final interlude. one chapter left after this. this part ends up eventually overlapping with the final bit of the chapter before this bc i enjoy writing the same painful scene twice. also now this fic is finally officially caught up completely. bye

When people break, sometimes it means that they break down and fall apart. I’ve had a few of those moments, but this time, it’s different. This time, when I break, I snap, an explosion, a fire, a caged animal ripping itself out of its prison. Or, at least, that’s how it feels.  
  
I haven’t been in this place for very long, but it feels like it’s been ages. Me and a few of the other whores—we eat, we sleep, we get fucked without our consent (and without getting paid). All the money goes to the people who brought us here. They are the salespeople, and we are the product. They’re bringing dudes in and prancing us around, showing us off like we’re animals in an auction, telling their customers who’s good at what. “Kellin likes getting spanked,” they might say in a voice that is supposed to sound sultry but only sends shivers down my spine. The thing is, I don’t like getting spanked. That kink lost its thrill when it started going too far, when it started happening whether I was into it or not. I never go into a lot of detail about what I experience, not even when I’m talking to Vic, but let me put it this way: I don’t find pleasure in being forced to call my partner “Daddy,” especially not in the cases where the dude is old enough to  _be_  my father. I don’t enjoy being tied up, when I have even less control in the situation than I normally would. Do these people care? No, of course they don’t. I’m subjected to whatever the client wants from me.  
  
Oh, well. Crying during sex is a turn on for some people.  
  
When Oli visits, of course the first thing he does is ask to see me. My body starts to shake just at the sight of him, knowing that he’s the reason I’m in here. He’s certainly not the ringleader, and he didn’t even bring me here, but he’s the one who’s been keeping a close eye on me. He’s the one who witnessed me fall for Vic Fuentes, and he’s the reason I’m being punished for it.  
  
When he touches me, I want to scream. I don’t, though, no matter how much my skin is bursting at the seams with disgust and anger. His hands on me make me feel dirty in all the worst ways, and I can’t help but think of the way Vic touches me. When his hands slide across my skin, I feel like I’m being cleansed, healed, my body sewing itself back together again into something better and stronger. Oli makes me feel like the exact opposite. He makes me feel like every inch of skin that he touches immediately becomes dead, contaminated, decaying.  
  
I don’t say any of that, though. I just make the noises I’m supposed to make, respond the way I’m supposed to respond, try to enjoy the way he starts to fuck me into the floor. Part of me wants to try to pretend it’s Vic, but even when I close my eyes, my body knows better. These are not Vic’s hands, or Vic’s lips, or Vic’s hips. There’s no way.  
  
I notice the scent of cigarette smoke all over him, but I ignore it for the most part, until it starts getting stronger. And that’s when I realize, half-naked on the floor with my shirt pushed up and my pants pulled down, that what I’m smelling is not just cigarette smoke.  
  
Something about the suddenness and intensity of the fire makes everything that I’ve been feeling start to spill out. It’s as if it’s melting my barriers. It’s as if the raging flames are coming straight from the fire that’s been growing in my chest. It’s as if the explosion in my heart has manifested itself.  
  
Oli immediately stops what he’s doing when he notices that the place has somehow caught fire, both of us doing our pants back up and pulling ourselves off the floor. I should just run, not even waste any more time with him, but the words are begging to escape my mouth the way that the fire has escaped my ribcage, and before I know it, I’m pushing Oli back into the wall, shouting, “Fuck you!”  
  
Oli just stares at me in shock, almost as if he’s too surprised by my outburst to respond.  
  
“Fuck you, and fuck all the rest of them, too, for fucking up my life,” I continue, and once I start, there’s no stopping me, even as the flames grow larger and higher, surrounding the room we’re in upstairs. “Fuck you for—for using me all the time, all the  _fucking_  time, and why the fuck would you think that’s okay?”  
  
At this point, Oli turns and swings the door open, sliding out into the main area, as if he’s trying to run away from me (or lure me into the flames). I follow him out, kicking a random empty beer bottle to the side (they’re everywhere, since some of the people who run this place drink on a regular basis) and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. I pull him down so that we’re on the same level, and the fire is spreading fast, but I barely notice it. All I can focus on at the moment is the rage that’s consuming every inch of my body.  
  
“Kellin—” Oli starts, trying to move, but I don’t give him a chance to finish.  
  
“Fuck you!” I scream, spitting the words into his face and hoping he can see just how much I mean it. “I hate you, I hate you, I f-fucking hate you—”  
  
I should’ve known he’d retaliate at some point, and he does, of course, by roughly pushing me away from him. I stumble but don’t fall, and I really should follow his lead as he tries to get away because the flames are uncomfortably hot by now and the smoke is really starting to get to me. But I’m not thinking straight, so instead, I lunge forward and grab Oli again, shoving him back up against a wall. I don’t even have time to say anything, though, because he just pushes me right back, both of us coughing by now. He bends over, sounding like he’s hacking up a lung, and I take the opportunity to push him to the floor.  
  
“You’ve owned me for so fucking long,” I snap, my voice starting to become rough and raspy. “Well, guess what? It’s over now! It’s fucking over! So fuck you for abusing me, and raping me, and letting me be raped—fuck you, fuck you,  _fuck you_!”  
  
I don’t remember when I snatched the empty beer bottle from off the floor; all I know is that by the time I’ve screeched out the last “fuck you,” I’ve smashed it over Oli’s head, coughing loudly as it shatters in my hand. The fire is definitely in full force now, and I take a few steps forward, trying to make out where the exit could be. My chest is tight and my eyes are watering, and my skin feels like it’s burning—because, well, it is—and now Oli is lying unconscious on the floor, and the anger that consumed me only a moment ago has suddenly been replaced with raw panic.  
  
At that moment, an angel calls through the fiery haze like an light in the darkness in the form of Vic’s voice, shouting my name.  
  
I swear to God that my heart stops for a split second, and as I take another few steps and kneel down on the ground, I call back, “ _Vic_?”  
  
I cough some more then, and that’s when he finds me, tilting my head up so that our gazes meet as he says with determination, “I’m getting you out of here.”  
  
I glance back over at Oli’s body, the panic and relief now paired with the beginnings of a new and horrifying guilt. I want to say something, but there’s no way we’re going to be able to carry his body out of here; I’m not even sure if we’re going to make it by ourselves. So I just nod, letting him take my hand and pull me through the burning building.  
  
I underestimated just how serious the fire is; I can barely stand because I’ve been in here so long, and I keep coughing and wincing at the pain of the flames licking my skin. Vic pulls me up when I fall down, and even though he still sounds determined, I can also detect fear in his voice when he says, “No. I’m not letting you die. I’m not losing you.”  
  
When we escape, greeting the cool air with desperate lungs, I have to take a moment to just register the fact that I’m outside. I’m free. I’m free, and I’m dying.  
  
We’re both coughing, but I just can’t seem to stop, even long after Vic slows down. He worries over me, asking if I’m okay, and I just shake my head as the world starts to cave in around me. I glance up at him helplessly, even though it hurts, because I feel like I need to get one last glimpse of him. “I’m gonna die, aren’t I?”  
  
Vic just looks at me in horror. “No,” he says, clearly in denial. “No, no, no, listen, you’re gonna live, you’re gonna—I’m not gonna lose you.”  
  
Everything about me is burning. My coughing just worsens, and consciousness becomes something that I have to fight for. In these last few moments before I completely pass out, I don’t think I’ve ever been more afraid—and believe me when I say that I have been very, very afraid.


	38. See You Around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi. this chapter is the longest thing i’ve ever written in one go (meaning longest chapter of anything ever, also longer than any of my oneshots) and i’m fucking dead. also it’s 1am.
> 
> so yeah this is the final chapter?? holy shit?? this fic is my baby i can’t believe it. thank you all for sticking with me through this wild thing, through my shitty updating and cliffhangers and everything. yall are the real mvps, seriously.
> 
> ALSO: i made an 8tracks playlist for this fic!! you can listen to it [here](http://8tracks.com/ashesashes/undress-to-impress-kellic). as for the songs that are actually on it, it ranges from fall out boy to against me! to taylor swift. all the songs are annotated as well, so i’ve shared my personal thoughts on each song in relation to the fic and why i put it on the playlist. i really like the way it turned out so i hope some of yall will have a listen.
> 
> i feel like i had more to say but now that i’m actually writing this i’m honestly at a loss for words. so again i say thank you and i hope you liked reading this fic as much as i liked writing it, because i really truly did and i’m gonna miss the hell out of it but it is time to move on to new things. what an incredible ride this has been.

The things that happen next are a blur of motion and noise. Sirens wail around us, all firetrucks and ambulances and even police cars. Everyone who was in the fire is loaded onto an ambulance, myself included, and then I’m not quite sure what happens. I assume that the fire is going to be put out, but I don’t know where anybody else is, who will be okay and who won’t, what’ll happen to the criminals involved. I still don’t even know the full story. All I know is that Jaime and I will probably be okay, and Kellin…well, Kellin might not be.

—

Later that evening, after I’ve been treated and it’s been ensured that I’ll be fine and that I don’t need to stay overnight or anything like that, I find myself sitting out in the waiting room near the ICU with Mike and my mom (who, when they got here, both asked me some questions that I really couldn’t answer), plus Jaime (who’s in pretty much the same state that I am). Neither of us really know what to say, but after a few moments of silence, I ask, “Do you know what happened?”

“They’re saying the fire started really quickly from a lit cigarette thrown on the ground next to the place,” Jaime replies, not looking at me.

All I can think about is the cigarette Oli was smoking beforehand. It doesn’t feel like it, but the time that I was fighting with those other guys, along with the time it took me to find the building in the first place, was probably long enough for a fire to spread fast.

“I—Jaime, what the hell even was that place?” I say in awe. I didn’t get much of a chance to look around, but it didn’t seem like much. Then again, the whole building was in flames, and I was too busy focusing on Kellin to really take it all in.

Jaime bites his lip, and for a second, I wonder if he’s even going to answer me. Then he sighs and says, “Well, we call it a whore house. Less organized, though.”

I don’t have time to ask anything else—I don’t even have time for my shock to completely set in—because then a nurse walks out and heads over to us, motioning to Kellin’s mother, who has been sitting a few seats away from us (I’m not sure how to react to her). We sit up straighter, all of us waiting to hear the news. My heart starts to pound almost immediately, and any illusion of calmness is abruptly shattered. I can’t possibly forget that, while I’m still breathing, Kellin might not be.

The nurse starts talking about serious burns and smoke inhalation, but I interrupt her without thinking, my mouth moving faster than my mind in my desperation: “Please. Just—tell us if he’s still alive.”

She pauses for a moment before nodding slowly. “Currently, yes.”

It should come as a relief, but the way she says it makes me think that maybe he’s not going to stay that way for long. “Okay,” I breathe, trying not to show signs of panic. “Is he—is he gonna be okay?”

She pauses again. “We don’t know,” she says finally. “He’s alive right now, but symptoms of smoke inhalation often worsen or don’t appear until later. We’ll have to watch him over the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

 _So if he’s going to die,_  I think bitterly,  _he’s going to die slowly._

“Are we allowed to see him?” I say bluntly, not even trying to hold back my concern anymore. If he’s alive, I have to see him for myself. My anxious state of mind won’t have it any other way.

The nurse nods. “Yes, you’re allowed to visit. Not all at one time, though, and you’ll need to use an alcohol rub on your hands before and after you’re finished; there’s a dispenser right outside the unit.”

I’m standing in a flash, glancing back over at everyone else. I don’t even have to ask; Mike just waves his hand knowingly and says, “Go see him. You probably care about him the most.”

Not even Kellin’s mother disagrees, and that kind of breaks my heart.

I don’t protest, walking fast in the direction of the doors to the ICU and using one of the alcohol rubs like the nurse instructed before stepping inside the unit. I take a quick look around before making my way through, feeling my heart jump in my chest when I find Kellin’s bed. He’s right on the end next to the window, the orange light of the sunset shining through on his body. His eyes are closed, his skin is covered in burns, and he’s got a bunch of machines and cords and things hooked up to him. He looks awful, but he’s alive.

It’s only when I see him that it truly settles in on me—he’s still alive. I can feel the relief washing over me, overwhelming me as I stand next to his bedside and just look at him, and it’s right then that Kellin starts to move, coughing a little before his eyes open halfway. He makes a small noise of general confusion, reaching up and rubbing his eyes, and then he squints up at me, his voice quiet and hoarse as he says, “Vic?”

My breath seems to catch in my throat, and then I feel a few unexpected tears slide down my face. I’d be self-conscious, but right now all I can think is that Kellin is here after being missing with no contact, and he’s breathing, and I almost forget for a few blissful seconds that he might not make it through the next few days. “God,” I say, wiping at my eyes and shaking my head.

“What happened?” Kellin asks, opening his eyes more fully and glancing up at me in concern. “Is Jaime okay? Are you okay? Am  _I_  okay?”

If it weren’t for the awkward position and all the machinery and things preventing me, I’d lean over and hug him. Instead, I settle for taking his hand in mine and squeezing it, thankful for the warmth, for the blood flowing through his veins. “Jaime’s fine,” I assure him. “And I’m fine. And you’re…” I don’t want to tell him that he might die within the next day or two, so I just say, “You’re alive.”

At that, Kellin laughs a relieved, surprised, breathless laugh, looking as if he doesn’t know how to react. “I’m alive.” A few seconds later, though, his face falls suddenly, as if he has just remembered something terrible. “Oh my God. Oh my God, what happened to—?”

I raise an eyebrow. “The guys who ran that place? Or whatever? I think they were taken away by state police to be, like, interrogated. And I think the police are coming back over here later to talk to us.”

“State police?” Kellin repeats. “So does this mean they’re actually gonna do something?”

I nod. “I think so, yeah.”

Kellin nods, too, thinking for a moment, and then he says, “What about Oli?”

I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean? I assume he’s with the other guys.”

Kellin shakes his head, covering his mouth with his hand and staring up at me with a horrified, guilt-ridden gaze. “Did they ever get him out? Oh my God, is he alive? Is he dead and I’m gonna be charged for manslaughter or something? Or did they never find his body?”

I just stare at him in confusion. “Okay, back it up,” I say slowly. “What are you talking about? What happened with you two?”

Kellin takes a few deep breaths, as if to try to calm himself down. “I—listen, okay,” he whispers, glancing around the ward to make sure nobody is around who could potentially eavesdrop. “You cannot tell anyone about this ever. Do you swear on your life?”

“I swear on my life,” I say automatically, though now I’m kind of nervous, wondering what could have possibly happened between him and Oli.

Kellin takes another deep breath, and then, quickly and quietly, he runs through what happened right before I found him—Oli fucking him, the fire starting, him snapping, the fight between the two of them, the beer bottle (which explains Kellin’s scream of “ _Fuck you_!” and the shattering glass that followed). It’s a shocking story, but I don’t blame him. He was angry and upset and scared. After all the abuse he’s been forced to endure, it’s understandable that he would snap like that.

Once he’s finished, he says, his voice tiny and afraid, “Oh, shit, that would be second-degree murder, wouldn’t it? I didn’t intend to kill him, but I did intend to cause harm; holy shit, holy shit…”

“Hey, hey,” I say, leaning forward and tilting his head up toward me. “Look at me. You’re gonna be okay. If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t heard anything about Oli, so maybe they never found his body.” The words feel strange on my lips, words I never expected to leave my mouth, but it’s the best thing I can say, considering that there’s a high chance that Oli didn’t survive, from the looks of it. It’s kind of darkly ironic, then, that the cigarette he was smoking was supposedly the thing that caused the fire in the first place. It’s what led to his downfall, too.

Kellin nods again, biting his lip. After another few moments of neither of us saying anything, he adds, “Thank you. For what you did back there. I don’t know if I’d have made it out if you hadn’t found me.”

“Anytime,” I reply, and I can’t help myself then; I lean forward and give him a chaste peck on the lips.

—

The next couple days are filled with constant worry. Kellin has to be monitored and treated at the hospital, and I keep expecting to get a call telling me the bad news.

But here’s the thing: I don’t.

On Friday morning, I wake up to an all-caps text from Kellin, written in classic ridiculous chat-speak style. He tells me that he probably isn’t going to die and that, while he’ll still need to be looked after and might have permanent lung scarring and shortness of breath, he can count on mostly recovering eventually.

I don’t believe the words at first, simply staring at the text for far longer than I should be. I keep on repeating the words in my head— _he’s going to be okay, he’s going to be okay_ —but it takes a while for them to completely sink in. I was prepared for the worst, and now that the worst isn’t happening after all, I don’t know how to react. I’m certainly not complaining. I don’t think I’ve ever gone from so worried to so happy in such a short period of time.

Kellin is officially released from the hospital a few days later. He says that things are still tense between him and his mom, but he assures me that it doesn’t matter. It’s a blatant lie, but he knows what his relationship with his mother is like. Maybe they’ll work it out, or maybe they won’t. Some relationships are too far gone to be salvaged.

On Saturday night, he comes over to my house, and that’s when I take the opportunity to hug him. He appears at my doorstep with burn scars and tired eyes but a winning smile to make up for it, and for a moment I just sort of stare at him, memorizing the image, reassuring myself that it’s real, that  _he’s_  real, that he’s alive and standing right in front of me. “I—Kellin,” I say breathlessly, having turned absolutely speechless, and then I give up on trying to put my thoughts and feelings into words. Instead, I step forward and just wrap my arms around him, holding him tight, resting my head against his shoulder and breathing him in.

He hugs me back in the same manner, his breath hitching a little in my ear as he and I just sort of hold onto each other. I can feel his body warmth, and it’s so familiar and comforting that after all this shit I never want to let him go, never want this feeling to leave.

I don’t know how long we stay like that—it’s probably no more than a few seconds, but it feels like a long time (and simultaneously not near long enough). All I know is that we only break apart from each other when Mike, casual and composed, calls from the living room, “We get it, lovebirds; you missed each other. Now close the door. You’re letting all the cold air in.”

Kellin laughs and reluctantly pulls away, just enough to close the front door. Then he calls, “Oh, don’t get jealous; I missed you, too, Mike!”

“The feeling is not mutual,” Mike replies in a deadpan tone of voice, but I can tell that at least a part of him is kidding. He still seems to be holding a bit of a grudge against Kellin—which I don’t blame him for—but I think they’re warming back up to each other.

“Hey,” Kellin says quietly, suddenly more serious. “Can we go upstairs to your room? I wanna…discuss things.” He plays with a few pieces of his hair, glancing down at the floor so that he doesn’t have to look at me. “I feel like you deserve to know a fuller story.”

My heart jumps a little bit at the thought of what Kellin’s gone through, at the thought of him opening up to me, and I nod solemnly, taking him by the hand and leading him over and up. When we reach my room, Kellin sits down on my bed with his back against the pillows, and I close the door behind me before sitting next to him.

“Whenever you’re ready,” I tell him. “I’m listening.”

Kellin just sits there for a few more moments, looking almost like he’s steeling himself as he pulls his knees up to his chest. Then he says, “Remember that one time when that kid called me ‘trailer trash?’”

I nod slowly, holding my mind back from jumping ahead and trying to guess. I’ve thought about that phrase quite a bit, but I’m going to let him talk instead of speaking over him or rushing him.

“Well…yeah,” Kellin says. “It starts there.”

I nod again, not saying a word and simply waiting for him to continue. After a few more seconds, he starts to get into it more, stating, “See, I lived in a trailer park for a large part of my childhood, but the place itself really wasn’t that bad. It had the potential to be a nice, welcoming home, and for the most part, it was. Except for the, uh, neighbors.” He clears his throat. “Oli and his friends all lived there when we first met. That was how they became friends. They always kind of scared me, even when we were little, though back then they were relatively harmless. I mean, yeah, they got into fights with each other a lot and were always getting into stuff—they’ve been troublemakers since they knew how to walk—but, y'know, they were kids. And so was I. And it was good. Well, maybe not exactly  _good_ , but…not bad.”

I can already tell that this is the high point of the story, that it’s only going to go downhill from here on out.

“But our families were fucked up,” he continues. “Even back then, my mom was on drugs, and my dad was always drunk and arguing with her—or sometimes me, especially when I got older. And, yeah, like I said, the place itself was nice, and honestly, so were a majority of the other people living there. But Oli’s dad was fucked. He saw me and some other kids—boys, girls, whatever, it didn’t matter—and he knew people who would have a hell of a good time with us.” He laughs bitterly. There’s no humor in his voice or in his eyes. “Vic, when I tell you that I’m used to this, I promise you that I mean it. I’ve been sold for sex against my will since I was in middle school. I lost my so-called ‘virginity’ when I barely even knew what sex was.”

The words coming out of his mouth are shocking and terrible and sad, but he says them all with a completely straight face, his voice lifeless and tired. I don’t even know how to respond. There’s nothing I could say that could possibly make him feel better. “God,” I whisper as the weight of it all starts to really settle in on me. “I can’t imagine…”

“I’ll help you,” Kellin says, and now I think I can hear a tinge of anger in his dead voice. I can tell that he’s had these next words prepared for a long time, just waiting to describe his childhood horror to someone, just waiting to put someone else in his shoes. “Imagine yourself, no older than twelve, surrounded by dirty, old, unfamiliar men in an unfamiliar place. You’re being forced to sit on their laps and they’re all touching your tiny body in places that you don’t want to be touched, which is everywhere. They’re breathing their alcohol and their cigarette smoke in your face, and there are pills and white powder, too, and you’re still not exactly sure what they are, but you know that they’re the same things your mom uses, and that scares you because your mom scares you. Your parents are both so full of substances that they don’t even realize you’re gone. You know that home is close—you could even walk to it—but you can’t go home for some reason; you and your friends and some other kids you don’t know, your bodies are all being used for money. The entire reason you’d agreed to it in the first place—‘agreed’ is a relative term—was because you’d been promised that you’d be making money for your family, and you knew you needed that; you were willing to do anything for it. And later on in your life, you’ll hear rape jokes, and jokes about being a ‘pimp,’ and you’ll think about all that, and you won’t laugh.” He says it all as if he’s reciting it, the imagery powerful and bleak, like something you’d read out of a book of depressing poetry.

Without even thinking, I reach over and put my arm around his shoulders, shifting my body closer to his in an effort to provide some sort of comfort. It’s the least I can do.

Kellin gives me the smallest hint of a smile. “If it makes you feel any better,” he says, “that’s probably the worst part of the story right there.”

After that, neither of us say anything for a few moments. Then Kellin breaks the silence: “When I got older, I started teaching myself how to dance.”

I can already tell that this part right here is the root of his job as a stripper. This is where it all begins.

“But not just any sort of dancing,” Kellin continues. “A sexual sort of dancing. Exotic dancing. Snuck around, managed to get myself a fake ID, was able to pass myself off as an eighteen-year-old, started performing like this behind everyone’s backs. I needed money, and I needed a job, so I figured I might as well do something I’m good at. Sex, sex appeal—that’s what I’m good at. And the funny thing is, even after all the bullshit I’ve gone through, I still found it fun. And I still do. The idea of actually being in control of my sexuality for once—that appealed to me. I fought past my childhood trauma, buried it in the deepest corners of my mind so I’d never be able to find it again, and when the sun went down, I owned that stage. I got to choose what happened to me, and for the first time in my life, I felt  _free_. I chose to have one-night stands with lots of men because it was a choice. I worked to shove bad memories out of my mind, to replace them with newer ones.

“But this was all in secret, and technically I was still a prostitute, but I didn’t want to be. I told Oli one day about my stripping, told him that I had no interest in being a whore for his father or his father’s friends or whatever—it was complicated, who ran the whole thing. And Oli told me that he’d have to do some convincing to allow me to run away when I’ve always been one of the most popular prostitutes, one of the highest sources of income. But Oli was partial to me, and so was his dad, so they told me that they’d give me a ‘reward’ for all the ‘hard work’ I’d done over the years.” He puts the words “reward” and “hard work” in air quotes. “I couldn’t believe I’d gotten off so easily. Nobody ever gets off easily. And then the compromise was made—every month I’d give them fifty percent of my income. And I’d let Oli and his friends continue to do whatever they pleased with me–since at that point in time, we’d already established our relationship as ‘friends with benefits,’ or something to that extent. And in return, I was ‘free.’ I was never really free, but it felt like it.”

He pauses then, sighing loudly and leaning his head against my shoulder, briefly closing his eyes before opening them up again and glancing up at me. “I think from there, you pretty much know the rest. More or less. If there’s something I forgot or something you want me to explain more in detail or whatever I can do that later. My parents found out about my job not too much later, after we all managed to get enough money to move away and into the house I live in now. Oh—also, somewhere along the line Matt’s mom divorced his dad and then remarried to this rich dude, so Matt moved away and now lives in his mansion place. Oli moved away at some point, too.” He shrugs tiredly. “But. Yeah. Whatever. I always said to myself that one day I’d tell you everything. So.”

I stare at him for what feels like a long time, memorizing the look and sound and feel of him. I can’t stop thinking about how shitty of a past he’s been cursed with, how terrible and deep-rooted all his issues seem to be, and it makes me want to cry.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell him genuinely, though it doesn’t feel like near enough. “That you had to go through all of that. That you have so many awful things to recover from.”

I half-expect him to simply shrug and say that he’s used to it. But, surprisingly, he doesn’t. He just keeps staring at me, as if he’s memorizing me the way I’m memorizing him. Then he sighs again, pressing his body closer to mine, and in a soft but oddly comforting tone of voice, he says, “It’s better now. Or…it  _will_  be better now.”

—

It does get better.

Eventually, the people who wronged Kellin are arrested. This includes Oli’s dad, who, I find out, was the older guy that appeared at the strip club the night Kellin and I went skinny dipping. Kellin explains to me that the building I found him in was used to keep prostitutes for an extended period of time, held there and sold all night. He explains that he was taken back there as a “punishment” for breaking their agreement by going out with me, by consistently choosing me over them, by switching his loyalty when it was always clear that he belonged to them no matter how many short-term boyfriends or one-night stands he might have. I was different, he tells me, and they could all see it. I ask him how they could’ve possibly thought they’d be able to get away with what they’ve been doing. He says he doesn’t really know. He points out that forced prostitution happens all the time. He says he sort of can’t believe that they got as far as they did, but he also can’t really believe that they actually got caught and punished. He says a part of him always thought it would be like that forever.

Later on, Jaime tells me about his role in the whole thing, too—he was one of the other kids that was sold the same way, though he was a bit older and it wasn’t to the extent that Kellin was. He didn’t live in the trailer park, but economically, he was in a similar situation to Kellin, desperate for money and willing to do anything for it. He got the idea of stripping from Kellin, whom he talked to on a regular basis, and entered into a similar agreement. But he fucked up the same way that Kellin did, fell for Tony and started prioritizing him over others. Now, though—it’s all over now. He tells me that he can’t believe it, either.

Eventually, I tell Kellin about how I overdosed while he was gone—I figure he deserves to know, and I figure he deserves an explanation as to why everyone has suddenly become so much more protective of me. He holds me tight and his voice shakes, tears in his eyes as he begs me never to do anything like that ever again, as he sobs, “I specifically told you  _not_  to hurt yourself!” I reassure him that I’m okay now, that it was a mistake and I don’t plan on doing it again, and I vow to myself that it’s the truth.

I don’t speak to Beau ever again, either. Maybe we could work something out and even become friends if we tried, but after our fallout, he must have realized that I really wanted nothing to do with him, and I still don’t, really. I don’t know if he’s taken any effort to fight his addiction or if he still uses drugs as much as he sells them, and I’m not sure if I want to catch up with him or not. He and I are on terms of “maybe,” but if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that I don’t plan on ever going back to him as a romantic partner, even if Kellin and I eventually break up. I don’t plan on letting him use me. I don’t plan on letting him give me drugs. I don’t plan on letting him fuck me up all over again. I’d say that’s pretty reasonable.

I’m planning to major in graphic design. Kellin, genius that he is, ends up with a scholarship to a nearby college—not a full scholarship, obviously, but a scholarship nonetheless. He tells me he’s going to continue to strip through college to help pay off debts and everything else. He plans to major in psychology so that he can help people like him, people with monsters in their heads, people with anger and fear in their chests, even if it’s in a different way. I’ve always said that he really  _gets_  people, that he understands human nature. And it looks like he’s using that for good.

Mike and Alysha are still dating (though it’s only been a few months), and so are Jenna and Tay, who makes Kellin and I both promise to keep in touch with her. Jaime and Tony do get together after this whole ordeal has blown over, and I can tell just by looking at them that they’re both ready to put dedication into their relationship. I visit Lester’s sometimes to keep up with our friends (Frank still pines hopelessly after Gerard, and Dan still doesn’t have a catchy stripper name), and, yes, also to watch Kellin do his thing. He always gives me his bedroom eyes while he’s onstage, letting me know that he’s still mine even when he’s dancing for other people. I don’t feel threatened or jealous like I used to—at the end of the day, I’m always the one he kisses goodnight. We don’t even have to think about it; it’s just natural. Nearing the end of August, we’ve been dating for about six months, not counting the brief period of time when we were broken up, back when things were bad.

We start to get better, too—all of us. Mike and I keep the promise we made to each other, to help each other get clean and stay that way. It’s still hard, and I still have days where all I want is to feel those drugs inside me once again, but I fight it. I fight the substances that still have a hold on me; I fight the anxiety that threatens to choke me and drown me. My mom fights it, too—she meant it when she said she would try for us. Of course it’s hard; it’s hard for all of us, a family of addicts reliant on intoxication. But we’re trying to patch ourselves back up, and that’s all we can do.

I learn that Kellin’s mom has been attempting to fight her addiction, too. Sometimes it doesn’t go as well, and sometimes it’s still horrible and scary, but she gets a better-paying, steady job and seems to genuinely be trying. Kellin tells me that his relationship with her still isn’t the best, and I reassure him that sometimes that’s okay. He doesn’t have to forgive her, and I completely understand if he doesn’t.

Oli Sykes is revealed to be dead, his body mostly destroyed in the fire, and for a little while, the guilt seems to eat Kellin alive. He tells me that he feels like a terrible person for not feeling grief, and I tell him that he isn’t obligated to miss his abusers. And it’s hard for him, but I can see him recovering, breaking out of the chains that have been holding him down all his life—finally free, the way he’s always wanted to be. Freedom scares him at first, though; it’s an idea so foreign that he can’t even fathom it. But he starts to get better, too. Even if it’s only minimally. Even if he does it in baby steps. Even if he doesn’t realize it.

We’ve fast-forwarded, now, to the end of summer. It’s the day before I’m supposed to leave for college—Kellin and I have vowed to keep in touch, even though we know that that often doesn’t work out, and I’ve told him that I’ll visit when I can. (The college isn’t even that far away; it’s in the same state, at least.)

I’m standing at the top of the staircase that leads down to the basement, staring down in curiosity and amusement. Kellin told me to wait up here, and then when he’s ready, he’s apparently going to call me down for a little “going-away gift.” His playfulness and mischievousness is back in full form, and I’m eager to see what it is that he’s got planned for me.

“Okay!” he calls up, his voice echoing around the otherwise empty house (Mike is over at Alysha’s, as usual, and Mom is at work). “You can come down now!”

Without hesitation, I make my way down the stairs, rounding a corner into the main area. The first thing I notice is the fact that it looks a lot like it did that night at my birthday party, though now there isn’t anyone around except us. The lights are colorful and bright, music has started playing seemingly out of nowhere, and standing right in the center of the stage is a teasing, seductive-looking Kellin.

“Oh my God,” I say, making my way up to the stage and sitting down in the chair closest to him. “Is this what I think it is?”

Kellin’s outfit is all lacy and black, high heels and thigh highs and a short skirt, a frilly black collar adorning his neck. He looks down at me and bats his eyelashes, a smirk crossing his face. “I don’t know, Vic. What do you think it is?”

“I think it’s a private show,” I tell him. My reaction this time is far more excited than it was the first time around.

Kellin nods slowly. “Well, then, I guess you’d be right.” He adjusts his collar.

I look him up and down, smiling widely. “You dress to impress, huh?”

“Oh, please.” He winks and shakes his head, his hair falling into his face. “I  _un_ dress to impress.”

A new song starts then, and with that, Kellin strides over to the pole that’s still there, his heels clacking on the floor. He grabs ahold of it and slowly wraps his body around it, stretching his legs out and leaning his head back, and even though I’ve seen him do these things plenty of times, I still can’t keep my eyes off of him, just as mesmerized as I was that very first night.

His pole-dancing skills are impressive, his movements captivating, but before long, he’s pulling himself down and making for the edge of the stage. He rolls his hips for me, smirking as he proceeds to reach forward and undo his tiny black skirt, letting it drop to the floor around his ankles and smoothly stepping out of it, heels and all. I can clearly see his black lace panties now—they’re a favorite of his, I’ve noticed—and I can also see the outline of his dick pushing against the thin fabric. He grins when he sees my gaze trailing down there and only pushes his hips out more.

There’s something beautifully wild about the way he performs for me. When he’s doing his job, it’s all makeup and oil, his hair precisely styled, but this is different. His hair is a mess and he likes it that way. He has done significantly less work on his face and skin, but it’s not because he’s lazy; it’s because when he’s around me, he doesn’t care. I can see his blemishes; I can see the burn scars that have permanently left marks on his body from the fire, scars that he usually makes sure to cover up completely. He’s still beautiful when he’s all dolled up, obviously, but this is a thrilling change of pace, untamed and gloriously imperfect.

I’m practically drooling over him by the time the song is over and he’s standing in front of me with a sultry look in his eyes, sweat-soaked and breathless, his pretty pink lips parted slightly. “So,” he says, “did I do a decent job?”

I nod, biting my lip in sexual frustration just at the sight of him. “God, come down here and kiss me already.”

Kellin just giggles and steps down from the stage. “Someone’s eager, I see.” He situates himself right on my lap, leans down, and then he kisses me.

It’s this kiss that makes me realize just how much I want him, and as he grinds himself on me, I can’t help it and let out a soft moan. I can feel him laugh into my mouth, his kiss enjoyably sloppy and messy as he moves his body on top of me. I’m already turned on, and it only takes me ten seconds to give up on holding back any noises that I might make.

“We should,” Kellin breathes, “we should take this to the bedroom.”

I’ve been thinking the same thing, my mind rushed and clouded by want, and I nod almost immediately. “The guest bedroom? Or upstairs to mine?”

Upstairs seems impossibly far away, but the thought of actually having sex in the spare bedroom kind of weirds me out, and Kellin seems to agree, because after a few moments, he replies, “Yours. I feel more comfortable there.”

We can barely make it halfway up the stairs without stopping to make out, both of us unable to keep our hands off of each other, but we eventually both manage to rush up the two flights of stairs to my bedroom, impatient and ready to let our fingers wander all over each other’s bodies.

I close the door behind us, even though no one is home. Kellin has taken to lying down on the bed, kicking his heels off and posing like some sort of lingerie model. I don’t hesitate, climbing up on the bed and leaning down, positioning my legs in between his hips.

“Take your shirt off,” Kellin says, though it sounds less demanding and more needy.

Eagerly, I do as he says, tossing my shirt to the floor before leaning back down and reconnecting my lips with his. His skin is hot, and I slide my hands up and down his chest and his back, my fingers casually flicking his nipples as I go. Kellin lets out a few giggly noises of pleasure, reaching up and pulling at my hair. He lifts his hips up and grinds against me some more, driving me crazy with how close he is and how little clothing he’s wearing.

With a little smirk, I break the kiss off, causing him to whine in frustration before I lean forward, slightly lifting up the collar (but not taking it off) and exposing some more of the skin of his neck. I let my lips teasingly dance across the sensitive area, and when he whines some more, I decide to give him what he wants and bite him there.

“God,” Kellin sighs, his eyes half-closed. “Just fuck me.”

I love it when he gets like this, impatient and needy. Without saying anything, I sit back up and lean over to the nightstand, opening the drawer and digging through it. After I’ve found the supplies, I reach down and quickly undo my pants, following it up with my boxers and letting out a very small sigh of relief at the feeling of no longer being confined.

Kellin watches me with lust in his eyes, playing with the fabric of his panties. I take that as a hint and slip my fingers in the small space between the thin strings and the skin it covers, pulling the tiny garment down to reveal his pretty, pulsing cock. He’s even harder than I expected, his eyes heavy-lidded and desperate. “Fuck,” he whispers with a little smile, nodding as I pull the panties the rest of the way down, as he kicks them off of his ankles onto the floor, leaving him in only his thigh highs and his collar. I don’t plan to bother with those, and it seems that he doesn’t, either. Besides, he looks gorgeous in them.

I quickly slide the condom on and pop open the bottle of lube, squirting some into my hand and spreading it all over my dick. It feels good, and glancing at the pleased look on Kellin’s face, I realize that he’s getting off on the sight of me touching myself. “Fuck,” he says again, always the vocal one. “I want you.”

I let him wrap his legs around my waist and position myself in between them, raising an eyebrow in a silent question of whether or not he’s ready. He nods, so I push in slowly, gasping in pleasure at how good he feels around me. I pause to let him get used to the feel of me, but within a few seconds, he’s whining again and shaking his hips, eyes closed and mouth half-open. “Fuck me,” he begs. “I’m all yours.”

I’m not going to argue, moving myself in and out of him as I lean down once again, my hair falling into both of our faces. I always start out slower, taking these softer moments to brush my lips up against his cheek, his jawline, his neck, making Kellin go wild with my gentle touches. “God, you fucking tease,” he groans as he tugs at my hair, a smile on his lips. “Fuck, I love you.”

He says it without meaning to, I think, the words spilling out naturally, the same way he’d say it to a close friend, words of genuine affection. I notice the realization and panic that crosses his expression soon after, as if he’s afraid of my reaction, and I’ll admit that I wasn’t expecting it. But I don’t exactly hate it.

Briefly pausing what I’m doing, I return the smile that graced his lips only a few seconds ago. The words are surprisingly natural for me, too, as if I’d known it all along but was too afraid to say it: “I love you, too.” I say it casually, as if this is a thing that we say to each other all the time. The relief that washes over Kellin’s face makes it all that much better.

Those few little words change the entire atmosphere, but it’s in a good way. Before, we were rushed and horny, and we still are, of course, but as I start moving my body again, as Kellin wraps himself tighter around me and groans in pleasure every time I go deeper, we’re something more than rushed and horny. It’s intimate, tender, soft. Even as Kellin begs me to fuck him faster and harder, every movement is punctuated by affectionate touches and private kisses. I feel like art.

“God, y-yeah, right there,” Kellin stutters out as I thrust my hips roughly, hitting him where he wants it. He drags his fingernails down my back, for sure leaving scratches behind, but I don’t care, reveling in the feeling of his gasping in my mouth as I kiss him and fuck him in his lacy thigh highs and collar, as I admire everything about his flawed but beautiful body, making sure to go easy on the areas where he’s been burned, even though I know that scars aren’t supposed to hurt. Everything about him feels so good, all euphoria that I can’t explain as I start to near my climax.

Kellin, sensing by my uneven breathing and messy movements that I’m close, thrusts his hips up in time with mine and kisses me harder. I try to hold out for as long as possible, but a few seconds later, I end up coming, all loud groans and sighs as I grip onto Kellin’s hand and the incredible feeling washes over my body.

Though he’s on the brink of his own climax, Kellin waits for me to come down (albeit impatiently, judging by the loud, whiny noises and the way he desperately lifts his hips up). Once I’ve pulled out of him and am pretty much finished, I do my duty and wrap my hand around Kellin’s shaft, pumping him quickly. It’s all he needs, and not long after, he comes, too, a wide grin on his face as he lets out a series of high-pitched moans that I’ll never get tired of.

For a few moments, we both just lie there, like we usually do, before I inevitably grab a few tissues for us to clean ourselves up with. Kellin digs through a small bag that he brought with him—he slept over last night—and grabs a clean pair of boxers, which is the only clothing that he bothers with for the time being. I put my own boxers back on, but nothing else; then the two of us lie in my bed some more, mostly silent until Kellin says, “Vic, I swear I didn’t mean to say it; it just kind of slipped out.”

I take his hand and intertwine his fingers with mine. “Hey, it’s okay,” I tell him. “Really. We don’t have to have this whole ‘I love you’ thing figured out just yet.” After a short pause, I add, “I wasn’t lying, though, when I said it back to you.”

Kellin’s face slowly breaks out into another one of his wide grins, a smile that could light up the world. “God, you’re so much better,” he breathes in wonder, almost as if he can’t believe it. “You’re so much better than all the people who used to call me their ‘princess.’” He wrinkles his nose a little. “God. It’s just a single word, but I can never hear it without thinking about…”

He gets like this sometimes, when a thought so innocent somehow leads him to remembering all the bad things that have been done to him. It hurts to see him this way, and I always do my best to help him, but I know it’s probably going to be like this for a long time. Like I said, though, he’s getting better. Baby steps.

“Princess, huh?” I tease, trying to make light of it. “That’s bullshit, Kell. You’re no princess.”

It’s such a simple phrase, but it makes Kellin smile, and I can’t help but think that it represents something more. Kellin’s no “princess” because he doesn’t have anyone who will call him that anymore. He’s free, breaking from past names and past experiences. If he (or I) can help it, nobody will ever call him that again.

After a few more moments, Kellin sighs, the smile fading once more. “I should probably go soon.”

“No,” I groan. “Stay.”

“You’re still not completely packed for college,” Kellin points out, “and you’re leaving tomorrow.”

I roll my eyes, unwilling to admit that it’s true. I stare up at the ceiling for a couple seconds, and then I sigh, “God, I’m gonna miss you.”

Kellin makes a noise of disapproval, resting his head against my shoulder and glancing up at me. “I’ll see you around,” he says, a faint smile on his lips at the signature phrase, even though I can hear the sadness in his voice. “Right?”

I nod. “I’ll see you around,” I agree, turning my head, and when I kiss him, it feels like both an ending and a beginning, and even though it’s sad, we still smile and laugh into each other’s mouths. It feels like the end of an era, an era of abuse and addiction and pain, and it feels like the beginning of something more hopeful, more safe. It feels bittersweet in the best way possible, and I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing about it.


End file.
